


Take My Breath Away

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 80s hair, Explicit Sexual Content, F-14s, F/M, No Character Death, Top Gun (1986) References, background Pipsy, inspired by the movie, not a true fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Top Gun AU.It’s 1985. Jemma Simmons is a Navy fighter pilot, callsign Professor. She’s one of the best, and lives for the moment her F-14 is catapulted from the deck of an aircraft carrier. She’s also known for following the rules. When she’s sent to the elite TopGun flight school, she meets a civilian contractor named Leo Fitz, who’s ready to break all the rules for her, if only Jemma will learn to take the risk. Will tightening cold war tensions with Russia bring Jemma and Fitz closer together or separate them for good?Beta'd by Gort.Set in a world where women rule the skies and being queer is a lot more accepted than it ever was in the 80s.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 219
Kudos: 131





	1. Danger Zone

_Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, off the Russian Coast, 1985_

The F-14’s engine roared as it launched from the aircraft carrier’s deck. The force slammed pilot Jemma Simmons, call sign Professor, against the back of her seat. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she gulped the metallic tasting air in her mask. Being catapulted from a ship was like nothing else in the world. There was a grunt from her RIO, Daisy, call sign Quake, as they rose into the clear sky over a Pacific Ocean that was living up to its name for once.

A smile spread over Jemma’s face. She lived for this.

Jemma leveled the jet out and fell into formation beside and slightly behind the other team patrolling with them.

Daisy hummed to herself as she flipped through radio channels, listening for chatter. Jemma kept an eye on the lead plane, making sure their spacing was congruent with current regulations. The sky was quiet, and she relaxed into her seat, enjoying being in her element. The jet’s engines purred, the sound comforting. She felt at home racing through the sky.

“Radar’s clear,” Quake said. “This should just be a Sunday stroll.”

“Roger,” Jemma replied. Quake radioed the lead jet, then returned to monitoring and humming.

“Is that Madonna you’re singing?” Jemma asked after a few minutes of Quake butchering something.

Quake laughed. “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time. Like a vi-i-rgin—”

“Got it,” Jemma cut in before Quake made her ears bleed. “Though you’re one to talk.” Daisy rarely spent a night alone.

“Hey now, just because I can’t resist a woman in uniform doesn’t mean you need to be taking potshots.”

“And I’m sure women in uniform are very glad.”

Quake paused. “I know your last relationship didn’t go so well, Prof.” Understatement of the year. It’d ended horribly six months ago. Jemma had thought that she’d found a kindred spirit in the other pilot, but Jemma’s girlfriend had turned out to be a lying, cheating…Jemma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Daisy continued rambling. “…fish in the seas. You need to get back out there and try again. I’ve seen Andrea making eyes at you.”

“Andrea?” Jemma asked as she adjusted the jet’s flaps.

“The sailor who runs the med checks after our flights? That Andrea? Red hair? Am I ringing any bells?”

“Oh, her. She’s making eyes at me?”

“She wants to lick you like ice cream.”

Jemma sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready for any…licking.”

Quake groaned. “It’s been ages. I know you got hurt, but so what? Take a chance.”

Jemma winced. She didn’t take chances. Ever. That’s how you got hurt, or worse if you were flying millions of dollars of high-tech machinery. “I’m not ready.”

“I’m going to be a grandma before you’re ready.”

“Oh, just go back to badly singing pop songs.”

There was a disgusted huff from her RIO. “It wasn’t bad.”

“You’re right, my mistake, it was bloody terrible. Do continue.”

Quake did, but on the wrong thing. “What about the guy you sat next to in the mess? He’s hot right? I’m not a great judge, but his hair is…nice.”

Jemma snorted. “Mike? He doesn’t do it for me at all. And I think I terrify him. Not every guy can handle a pilot.”

“Or any guy,” Quake grumbled under her breath. “But still, maybe just take one of them out for a test drive. It’ll make my life easier if you’re getting laid.”

“Your life?”

“You’re uptight at the best of times. Lately, you’ve been anxiety central, and since I’m the one trapped in a small space with you on the regular, you could use a little tension release.” There was the click of Quake flipping through adjustments to the radar.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to excel. You know they’re considering sending us to TopGun, and I really want to go.” More than anything.

“I know, I know. Because it’s the best of the best, and if anyone is the best, it’s you.” There was a pause. “I want to go too,” she said, quieter. Jemma knew her RIO was more competitive than she usually let on. It was part of why they worked so well together. Quake was laid back, rounding off the edges of Jemma’s driving need to prove herself. It was chill that Jemma badly needed, and Quake had a deep-seated need to be recognized but didn’t like to be forceful about it.

In the air, they were superb. On the ground they were good friends, the kind that always had each other’s backs.

“We’ll go,” Jemma said, checking her altitude and speed, which were right where they should be.

“Hope so. Maybe someone there will catch your eye.”

Jemma groaned. “Will you let it go, I don’t need—”

“Bogey incoming,” Quake said, her voice snapping with tension. “Make that two. Three o’clock. Looks like the Russians want to wave at us.”

Jemma turned her head. There were two black specks rapidly approaching. It wasn’t long before she could make out details. MiGs. They flew below her and the lead jet before breaking their formation, both streaking off in opposite directions to loop around.

Quake was talking rapidly with command. Jemma caught most of it, stuff about evasion and not firing unless fired upon. It was the orders she expected. The lead jet abruptly turned, and Jemma dove to avoid its engine wash. Lovely.

“They’re tracking each of us, one following the lead and the other’s trying to get on our tail.” Quake was all business, and Jemma swiveled her head, looking for the enemy as she leveled off.

She made a hard turn, catching sight of the MiG as it swooped to follow. Jemma climbed, rolled, and sent the F-14 into a high g turn, trying to lose the enemy plane.

It stubbornly stayed right on their six.

“I think he’s read the same books you have,” Quake grunted.

Jemma ignored her RIO as she mentally flipped through scenario after scenario, looking for one that would let them get behind the MiG. None of them were applicable, but if she…no, that wasn’t a suggested maneuver for an F-14. She wouldn’t risk it.

“Time to do something,” Quake said. “It’s going to get a lock on us any second.”

“He won’t shoot.” Jemma was sure. It was a scare. She leveled off and the squeal from the computers that let her know the enemy had her jet targeted sounded in her helmet.

“What the fuck, evade!” Quake shouted.

“They won’t fire.” Jemma slowed her plane, and the MiG caught up with them. The target lock broke as the enemy plane pulled alongside them, close enough that Jemma could clearly see the pilot looking at her. Jemma waved. Quake groaned. “We were instructed not to fire,” Jemma reminded her.

“Yeah, but not to gift wrap ourselves.”

The MiG pilot smiled and blew Jemma a kiss before sending her plane into a steep high-G dive that Jemma really hadn’t thought the MiG was capable of.

“Command’s calling us back to the carrier,” Quake said. “This should be fun.”

The two MiG’s bugged out, and the lead jet returned to its patrol position with Jemma on its flank. They streaked across the ocean, heading for the carrier. Jemma circled around at the regulation speed and altitude until the other plane landed, then made her run, the hook catching the F-14 and jerking it to a stop.

“Command wants to see us,” Quake said as Jemma popped the canopy open.

Jemma removed her helmet and shook out her hair. It only went past her ears and was sticky with sweat. “After showers, I’m sure.”

“No, Prof. Now.”

****

Jemma stood stiffly beside Quake. They were in front of their commanding officer’s desk, and she did not look pleased.

“Simmons, do you want to explain why you simply allowed an enemy plane to target lock your jet?” Captain Hand was scary when she was pleased, but right now she looked furious.

Jemma lifted her chin even as her stomach flipped. “We had been instructed not to fire, Ma’am. I believed that the enemy pilot most likely had the same instructions. It seemed prudent not to play cat and mouse when there was no need.”

“So you let them get a great up-close look at our fighter?”

“Jemma waved,” Quake said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh.

Captain Hand rubbed her temples. “Simmons, you’d already executed several evasive maneuvers, all textbook, prior to simply deciding not to do anything. I’m confused. You couldn’t shake this bogey so you…stopped trying?”

“I did not think any of the evasive patterns taught were applicable to this case, so I chose to believe that world war three was not going to start today.”

Hand looked pained. “I’m not sure if that’s the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Simmons, if the by the book maneuvers weren’t working, why not do what felt right? You know your machine, it’s capabilities, and you can think in three-dimensional space better than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Jemma lowered her gaze.

“Prof likes by the book,” Quake said into the silence.

“I know,” Captain Hand replied. “I really know. And thank god you didn’t get your asses blown out of the sky today. That would have been a lot of paperwork. And I would have had to cancel my plans for you two.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Simmons, Johnson, despite your screwing up today, I’m still going to send you to Miramar.” Jemma sucked in a breath as elation filled her chest. “Simmons, you’re a brilliant pilot, but that brilliance doesn’t often show. I think this is the push you need. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jemma said.

“Dismissed,” Hand said curtly, picking up a piece of paper on her desk.

Jemma followed Quake into the hallway. They looked at each other, then squealed.

“We’re going!” Jemma said, hardly believing it. She slumped against the wall and laughed.

Quake spun in a circle. “We’re going! We’re going!”

****

_A month later, Miramar, California, TopGun flight school_

Jemma smiled at herself in the mirror. Her uniform was pressed and clean, her shoes shined, and she had brand new notebooks and pencils ready to go. She was ready for the first day of classes.

Quake was in the hallway, waiting on her. She fell into step beside Jemma. “This is so exciting. Twice a day mission runs, starting tomorrow. And the lead instructor…I’m the biggest fan of hers.”

“I hope she’s as tough as everyone says she is.” Jemma wanted to impress her instructors, not necessarily make friends with them, but even she was star struck by who their lead was.

“Only you,” Quake said with a laugh.

They turned the corner and entered their assigned classroom. It was military drab with grey walls and yellowed linoleum on the floor. At least it smelled clean, like floor polish. Quake grumbled as Jemma led them to seats in the first row. After they were situated, Jemma turned to size up their competition. A tall, blonde woman in the back row looked formidable. Her RIO was quicker to smile, with long hair that fell in a braid down her back. “Do you know who they are?” Jemma whispered to Quake.

“I think that’s Mockingbird and Yo-yo,” Quake replied.

Jemma swallowed. Mockingbird was legendary. The woman caught Jemma staring and stood. She crossed the room and stuck her hand out. “Bobbi,” she said.

“Jemma Simmons.”

Bobbi grinned. “The Professor. Didn’t know you were English. How’d you end up flying for the Navy?” Her handshake was crushing and Jemma had to resist shaking her hand once Bobbi let go.

Jemma smiled politely at the question, which she’d been asked many times. “My mum and da moved us across the pond when I was sixteen, so I could attend school here. They went back. I stayed. This ended up being what I wanted to do when the Navy recruited me.” She didn’t say they’d wanted her in intelligence, but Jemma had been flying in small aircraft since she’d been tiny. The sky was her favorite place in the world. She’d thrown herself into pilot training.

Bobbi nodded and raised a brow. “Is it true you have two doctorates?”

“It is. Biology and Chemistry.” She eyed Bobbi warily.

“I hope that brain isn’t too heavy to fly,” Bobbi said, grinning. “Because up there it’s not about thinking.”

Jemma’s smile turned icy. “It is for those of us who can.”

“I’m guessing you’ll get lots of time to use those smarts to think all about how you lost.” Bobbi smirked as she walked back to her seat.

Jemma sighed at turned to the front of the classroom. It didn’t matter what Mockingbird believed. Or anyone else. She was going to trounce them all.

Daisy huffed and crossed her arms. “At least some of us know our nose cones from our assholes,” she said loudly, right as the last flight team entered. The pilot, a short woman with spiky hair, raised her eyebrows at the comment, but whatever she said was lost under the sudden swell of conversation as everyone gaped at her RIO.

The woman crossed her arms. “My name’s Piper,” she said. “Callsign Agent. And this is Davis, callsign Retriever. If you have a problem with him, you’re going to be answering to me, got it?” She bristled under everyone’s shocked glances.

“No one’s going to be answering to anyone except me,” said another voice. A woman with long dark hair and a no-nonsense attitude entered the room from behind Piper and Davis. “Find your seats,” she told them. Piper headed to an empty row and Davis folded his tall form into the chair beside her.

Quake made a whimpering noise, and Jemma turned to find her looking wide-eyed at Piper. Oh, terrific, Jemma did not feel like dealing with one of Daisy’s crushes at the moment.

The long-haired woman cleared her throat, and all eyes snapped to her. “I’m your lead instructor, Melinda May, callsign The Calvary, but you won’t call me that if you know what’s good for you. May is good enough.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” everyone chorused. Every inch of her reputation had to be true.

She walked to the front of the room and leaned a hip against the desk. She surveyed them, her gaze lingering on first Jemma, and then Bobbi. “You are all here because you’re the best at what you do. But I don’t think any one of you is worth anything right now. You are all starting from scratch.”

Jemma clutched her hands together in her lap to keep them still. She couldn’t decide if a fresh start was good or not. She had a reputation for a reason. Daisy put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“You have eight weeks to impress me. Eight weeks to shove as much information about flying into your brains as you can. We have amazing instructors, civilian and military. Listen and learn. I am not going to put up with anyone’s cocky attitude. You might be good, but you’re not better than me. So save it for the bar and for the air.” She stood and went to the chalkboard. Jemma poised her pen over an empty page in her notebook. “Now let’s get started.”


	2. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Jemma wrinkled her nose. Too many people crowded the bar. The place looked country, though she could hear Hotel California playing from the jukebox. Competing colognes choked the air, but the underlying note of beer was tempting.

She probably should have stayed at home, studying.

“C’mon,” Quake said, pulling at her arm. “Everyone’s going to be here, and you look so nice in your dress uniform that I bet some guy is going to be all over you.”

Goody.

The inside of the place was worse than the outside. The walls were bare brick and the floor concrete. A plethora of neon bar signs lined the walls, blinking over the heads of people downing cheap beer and tequila. Quake stopped her just inside the door. “Lots to pick from, Jemma, you are so going to get laid. Maybe in this bar. See anyone interesting?”

Jemma let her eyes slide over the bar’s occupants. She heard an English accent and craned her neck towards the bar. Behind the counter stood a guy in a white t-shirt. He had an easy smile and sweet eyes. “Him?” she said, pointing.

“The bartender?” Quake asked, then made a face. “Better try again.”

“What…oh.”

Bobbi had already arrived and was leaning over the bar. The bartender’s eyes snapped to her and his entire posture changed. Obviously, he had more muscles than brains and thought with his little head. “He’s kind of scruffy anyway.”

Quake rolled her eyes. “Let’s say hi to our classmate.”

“Do we have to?” Jemma sounded whiney even to herself, but she followed her RIO over to where Bobbi was standing.

“Hey,” Quake said. “Nice to see you. I’m the one you ignored this morning.”

Bobbi smiled as she took a beer from the bartender. Her eyes darted to him as their fingers brushed before focusing on Daisy. “Sorry about that, it’s just friendly competition. You must be Quake?”

They shook hands and Jemma relaxed a fraction. “It was nice to meet you,” Daisy said. “I’ve heard a lot about Mockingbird.”

Bobbi nodded and waved a hand. Her RIO materialized at her side. “This is Elena,” she said. “Yo-yo’s quick. She’s got a husband and kids so usually she doesn’t come along to these kinds of places, but tonight we're celebrating our first day of class.”

Elena poked Bobbi’s shoulder. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight.” She turned to Jemma and Quake to shake their hands. “It is nice to meet you. I’m sorry my friend is a raging bitch.” Bobbi snorted and the bartender goggled at Elena. “What, it’s the truth.”

“I’m not arguing,” the bartender said, holding up his hands. “Wait, should I argue?” he said to Bobbi.

“Hardly. I own it. Guys, this is Hunter. Can you bring my friends a drink?”

Hunter narrowed his eyes but went to go grab more beers.

“He’s cute,” Jemma said.

Bobbi grinned. “Dibs.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“We’ll keep our competition to the skies, thank you,” Jemma said, accepting the beer Hunter held out to her.

“Sounds good, you guys have fun.” She glanced at her RIO. “And you can go call your husband whenever you wish.”

“You’re so generous,” Elena said, sticking her tongue out at Bobbi’s back when she turned to Hunter.

Jemma laughed and linked arms with Quake. “Shall we see if we can find a table?” They wandered further into the crowded room.

“I have an idea, Jemma,” Daisy said, halting. “I bet you twenty bucks that you can’t find a guy and get him to bang you right here, tonight.”

“What?” Jemma said before she had time to think better of it. “You’re nuts, and you’re so on.” There had to be a sure thing in the bar, and a one-night stand would be clear cut. Wham, bam, never have to again see the man.

“And I’m calling eight-ball rules.”

Jemma groaned. “No, do you have to?”

“I have to. So pick your poison.”

Jemma made a face. Eight-ball rules were dreadful. She had to pick her target and then go after them. It couldn’t just be anybody. Slowly, she turned around, studying the faces of the men and women in the bar. She dismissed anyone already drunk, other pilots, and anybody with feathered hair. Of the remaining people, no one seemed interesting at all. Starting back at the beginning, she crossed her arms and scanned around the room again.

Wait.

An older man was standing up and leaving. The back of his head had been blocking the face of the other man at the table. Jemma’s breath caught in her throat. The guy, still sitting with a beer in front of him, had light brown hair that looked like it was trying to curl, more of a beard than she usually liked but it really worked for him, and intelligent eyes. He wrapped his long fingers around his beer bottle and tilted his head back to take a drink. She watched in fascination as his throat worked as he swallowed.

“Target lock?” Quake said in Jemma’s ear and she jumped.

“What?” She had to drag her eyes away from where the man was wiping beer off his mouth. For saying he had on khakis and a plaid button-up, he looked good.

“Prof, you just lit up like a thousand-watt bulb. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just…get interested. So go get him, tiger.” Quake made claws with her hands and scratched at the air.

“I don’t know—”

“Oh, speaking of tigers, I’ll catch you later.” Quake darted off and Jemma followed the direction she was headed to see that Piper had just walked into the bar. Jemma sighed and peeked back over her shoulder at the guy, who was still sitting by himself. No time to waste. And she felt very sure about him. This guy was the right one.

She maneuvered around knots of people and slid into the chair across from her target. The guy froze with his bottle halfway to his mouth.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Jemma, I thought you might be able to use some company.”

He set his bottle back down carefully on the table. “You a pilot?”

Jemma bit her lip to keep from grinning. He was Scottish! “Yes, here for training.” She thought that might be enough of a clue to let him know what she was after only a single night. And dear lord, was she after it. Being closer to him revved her engine and flooded her lower belly with heat. She wanted him.

He nodded. “Ah, TopGun, I take it you’re decent enough if that’s the case.”

Jemma set her beer down and leaned forward. “I do know how to handle a flight stick.”

She’d swear that his cheeks turned pink, even though the bar’s lighting was dim. “I’m sure, Miss Jemma.” He took a sip of his drink. “And what do you like best about it? Flying?”

Jemma reclaimed her beer and drank to buy herself a second. She thought his eyes were blue. “Well, Mr…”

“Fitz. Leopold Fitz, but everyone calls me Fitz.”

“Fitz,” she whispered, rather liking how it sounded. “Well, Fitz, I think what I like best is feeling free. Up there everything falls away, and it’s just me and the sky.” She ran her finger through the condensation on the side of the bottle. Fitz had tilted his head and was watching her. “But there are other things I enjoy about it. The physics involved. The motion of my jet through three-dimensional space. I’m very good at calculating g-forces, as well as executing complicated multi-step maneuvers, both offensive and defensive. And then there’s the science of flight itself. The math is as beautiful as the curve of the horizon.”

Fitz had leaned forward now too, and his lips were slightly parted. The fuller lower one looked perfect for nibbling. “It’s, um…” He trailed off and licked his lips. The sight of his tongue stroking his lips made her pussy throb. It was so unlike her she nearly giggled. Jemma did not just fall into lust with someone. “It’s, er, good that the jets don’t have flappable wings, like a bird, the math would be so much messier.”

She laughed softly. “It would be a pain. Even helicopters, with all the circular air motion, are much more difficult.”

“Entirely.”

There was a bark of laughter from the bar, and Jemma glanced over to find Bobbi sitting on top of it, with Hunter apparently trying to use his mouth to get a hold of a shot glass Bobbi had jammed into her cleavage. He buried his face against her tits, then threw it back a moment later, mouth around the glass. Whatever was in it made him sputter, but he was still able to high-five Bobbi.

Fitz snorted. “He’s such a ham.”

“You know Hunter?”

“Yeah, he’s putty in the hands of a girl like the one that’s got him in her sights right now. Poor guy falls for them, then they leave. Breaks his heart every time.” Fitz was tapping his fingers against his now empty beer and looking at Jemma with an expression she couldn’t read. Then he stood. “I better go. Early day tomorrow.”

Jemma stood as well. “It’s still early.” Damn the twenty dollars, she just wanted to keep talking to Fitz, who hadn’t laughed at her saying math was beautiful, which most guys would have. They’d ask her about the jet, the horsepower, how it felt to fire the guns, not understand her and how she felt about flying.

Fitz shook his head. “I’ll see you around.” He turned and walked towards the back of the bar. Jemma paused, but he was supposed to be her sure thing, and Jemma didn’t think she was wrong that he had been interested in her. Or at least her mind. She hurried after him, catching up to him in the back hallway.

“Fitz,” she said, and he stopped before turning towards her.

His expression was close to one of regret. “Yes?”

She moved closer to him, tilting her face upwards slightly to look into his eyes. The light was better here, and she could tell they were blue, like her beloved sky. “I thought we were having a good time.”

The corner of his mouth lifted upwards and he reached out, hesitated, then brushed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah.”

“Then why run off?”

“Because it’s not a good idea.”

“You’re wrong, all my ideas are good.”

Fitz chuckled and leaned against the brick wall. His eyes swept up and down her. “You’re quite something, Jemma.” She whimpered slightly under his intense scrutiny. Her nipples tightened and scraped against the lace of her bra. His eyes locked with hers and she would swear his pupils were bigger than they’d been.

She reached for him, but he caught her wrist.

Jemma wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. She wanted to kiss his mouth and find out what the beer he’d been drinking tasted like. She wanted to yank his shirt off and run her hands over his back or tear open the front of his trousers to find out what he was working with.

Fitz brought her hand to his face and he pressed a kiss to her palm. It felt like fire raced up her arm to engulf her entire body. “You’re something else.” His lips moved against her skin and she gasped. He stepped forward and pressed her palm to his cheek. He smelled slightly spicy and very male, and she found herself wavering towards him. His beard scratched against her hand and she curled her fingers, trying to anchor him so she could press her mouth to his.

She was going to devour him.

Fitz’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as well and he bowed his head slightly, his eyes fixed on her lips. His eyelids close, but then he pushed back from her. Jemma whimpered.

“It’s still not a good idea,” he said and smiled sadly at her. “But it was nice to meet you, Jemma. I’ll see you around.”

Jemma didn’t move when he walked away this time. There was the sound of the bar’s back door opening and closing. A car engine started up, revved, and then faded as he drove away.

Damn it.

She shouldn’t have even tried.

Returning to the bar, she saw that Quake and Piper sitting side by side in a booth, drinking and animatedly talking about something. Daisy looked up and frowned when she saw Jemma by herself. She said something to Piper and slid out of the booth. Bobbi had disappeared, and there was a different man behind the bar now. Jemma didn’t think that was a coincidence.

“Struck out?” Quake said.

“Yeah.” Jemma hugged her friend.

“Great, now it’ll be another year before you try again. If I see him, I’m going to yank his testicles off and hand them back gift wrapped.”

Jemma giggled. “That’s very specific. And no you won’t because that’d mean you’d have to touch them.”

“There’s always gloves.”

Jemma looked heavenward. “It’s fine. Go have fun. I only had the one beer so I’m going to drive back to base. See you bright and early.”

Quake patted her shoulder and headed back to the booth while Jemma made her way to the front of the bar where her motorcycle rested. There was more than one way to fly.

****

Fitz parked his forest green MG in the drive of his house, which sat across from the beach. He thought about grabbing another beer out of the fridge and going to sit on the sand to watch the surf, but he really did have an early morning class to helm.

With a sigh, he unlocked his front door.

His mind wouldn’t stop teasing him with the face of the woman he’d just met. She was gorgeous, but he knew lots of pretty women. It’d been something in her voice, how she’d described flying, that had really caught at him along with her dark eyes and lush mouth. He’d never given in to the temptation.

Fine kettle of fish that would have been.

Despite all the logistic and ethical issues of dating someone from TopGun, pilots left, and unlike Hunter, Fitz wasn’t built to deal with that. He didn’t want to lose his heart for a few weeks, only to have it shattered before being handed back to him.

Though hearing his name on Jemma’s lips might be worth it.

He switched on the lamp on his desk and sat down, pulling over the file folder holding his notes for the morning. He switched the radio on as he tried to concentrate on his notes.

He couldn’t. 

His thoughts about Jemma were too much of a distraction. Every detail of her, from the shape of her hips to the way the very corner of her eyes crinkled when she smiled was burned into his memory. Fitz dragged a hand over his face. If he was less smart, he would have brought her home. He could have already been balls deep in her and making her scream.

Maybe. He wasn’t the kind of guy most women went for. Or any woman, really. Knowing TopGun pilots, she’d probably made a bet with a friend. And the screaming was more of a hypothesis. Maybe she cursed when she came, or bit. God, the idea of her teeth sunk into his shoulder…

The front of his trousers became uncomfortably tight.

Fitz leaned back in his chair and started undoing his belt, giving in to what his body wanted, even if he couldn’t give in to the actual woman. He’d just spend a few minutes getting her out of his system for good before tomorrow.


	3. Bad Reputation

Jemma, aviator sunglasses perched on her head, walked beside Daisy into the hanger where desks were set up for that morning’s class. She clutched a notebook, pen, and two highlighters in her hands. It should be enough for the lecture, which was on the physics of flying. Jemma hoped she wouldn’t be bored.

Sunlight assaulted her as she found a spot in the front row. She pulled her shades down over her eyes. Daisy, grumbling beside her, did the same.

After taking the long way home last night, Jemma hadn’t been able to sleep. When Daisy had shown up a couple of hours later with a bottle of rum, Jemma might have had one--maybe five--shots too many. Now she was paying for it despite chugging several glasses of water along with the liquor. Her RIO wasn’t any better off, judging from Daisy’s cursing.

Bobbi and Elena walked in, both looking as fresh as newly fallen snow. Ugh. Jemma wrinkled her nose at them.

“I heard you crashed and burned last night,” Bobbi said, pausing beside Jemma’s desk.

With one finger, Jemma pulled her glasses down so she could look Bobbi in the eye.

“At least you don’t smell like bartender,” Daisy said under her breath, just loud enough for Bobbi to hear. Bobbi rolled her eyes and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she made her way to the other side of the classroom. Jemma gave Daisy a quick high five as May strode to the front of the room, sharp heel clacks demanding attention.

“This afternoon will see all of you engaged in your first training flights,” she said to the class. “These are combat scenarios. You will win, or you will lose. Let me make this very clear, you want to win.” There was a smattering of laughter from around the room. “But first, you have a lecture. I do expect to see this knowledge applied today. This isn’t flight 101, this is advanced material.” Jemma sat up straighter and clicked the end of her pen, ready to take notes. “The instructor giving the lecture today is a civilian contractor, but I assure you that he knows his stuff. Disrespect will not be tolerated.”

There were footsteps from behind them. “Oh, shit,” Quake said, but Jemma didn’t have time to turn and look before May was speaking again.

May gestured with a hand. “May I present Doctor Leopold Fitz.”

Jemma’s stomach dropped to the floor. Oh no. This could not be happening. She glanced to the side as he walked past, wearing a worn brown leather bomber jacket over a plain button-up and dark grey slacks that fitted rather nicely over his rear.

Crap, she was staring at his bum. Fire licked through her veins. His very nice bum. With a groan, she slumped in her seat and pushed her sunglasses back up her nose as Daisy vibrated beside her with suppressed laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Jemma murmured.

“But it is,” Quake whispered back. “You look like you don’t know if you want to keel over dead or if you want to tackle him and start making out.”

“Can I pick both?”

“Good morning, class,” Fitz said, and Jemma’s eyes zeroed in on him. “We have a lot of material to cover today, and all of it is applicable to the scenarios you’ll be facing this afternoon. I suggest paying attention, taking notes, and bloody well learning something.” He picked up a piece of chalk and tossed it between hands. His eyes fixed on her for a second and her heart leapt into her throat. “And keep all questions to the end.”

Dear lord, this was going to be impossible.

Fitz turned towards the chalkboard and launched into his lecture. Five minutes later, Jemma still wanted to snog him, but now it was because he was so brilliant. She was leaning forward and taking notes at a furious pace, drawing the diagrams he did and annotating them as he spoke.

Twenty minutes later, Jemma was sure she was in love as Fitz wrote out equations and explained angles of certain high-speed turn that she’d been worried the F-14 wouldn’t handle well and had been reluctant to try.

 _The science is sound_ , she happily wrote to herself and put three exclamation marks.

Glancing over at Quake’s desk, Jemma sighed when she saw that Daisy had only written down a tenth of what Jemma had. Jemma would have to make her a copy of the notes after class.

When the lecture wound down, Fitz, his jacket discarded over the back of a chair, chalk dust on his hands, and his tie loosened, leaned his hip against the corner of the front desk.

“Questions?”

Jemma had a couple, one in particular that was bothering her, but judging from the stunned look of her classmates, she wasn’t sure arguing maths with their instructor was the smartest move at the moment.

May stood. “Class dismissed, pick up the papers listing the parameters of your training exercises on the way out. And try to eat some lunch after you see them.”

Nearly everyone ran for the assignments, but Jemma stayed put. She was going to ask her question.

Daisy poked her. “I’ll be in the mess with our mission, alright? Try not to bang the teacher while I’m gone.”

Jemma glared at her RIO’s back as Daisy nabbed a paper.

“Hey,” Bobbi said, stopping beside Jemma’s desk again. “I can’t believe you’re hot for teacher. Guess if you ace the test we’ll know why.” Bobbi winked as she walked off.

Elena paused beside Jemma. “Don’t mind her, always wants to win. He looks very nice, and it’s good to have someone at home.” Elena patted Jemma’s shoulder and left.

Jemma opened her notes to the page she wanted to discuss with Fitz, took a deep breath, and stood.

****

Fitz dusted the chalk off his hands and pulled his jacket back on. He’d done it, he’d made it through class without embarrassing himself. He’d thought he’d been prepared to walk in there, knowing Jemma would be in the class, but seeing her sitting in the front row, aviator glasses over her eyes and her uniform skimming her curves had been a different matter.

He’d nearly forgotten the damn lecture.

His solution had been to turn his back to the class and talk a mile a minute, which probably no one had been able to keep up with. Maybe he’d try to be a little more conversational the next time.

“Excuse me, Doctor Fitz?”

His head snapped up. It was Jemma, her mirrored sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head and a notebook and pen in her hands.

Terrific. Just what he needed, her running after him here too. As if it hadn’t been hard enough to tell her no the night before and as if he hadn’t spent the entire night dreaming about dark eyes and strong thighs.

He swallowed, glad he hadn’t pulled his tie tight again. “Can I help you, Captain Simmons?”

“Yes, actually, I have a question, on the spiral descent diagram you drew?”

His mind perked up. “Go ahead and ask.”

She set her notebook on the desk and he carefully stepped up beside her. God, she smelled wonderful. Jemma tapped her pen on the notebook and he remembered to look down. Then he frowned. It wasn’t just the diagram. She’d taken notes, copious notes, with annotations in the margins, and used two different highlighter colors to organize things.

Jemma wasn’t the usual pilot who came through TopGun.

“Well, see here?” She gestured to a part of the diagram, indicating a turn. “I was wondering if you had the equations because I was thinking the amount of thrust being generated compared to the rotational forces acting on the jet would be different than what you told us.”

He blinked at her. “You sure you want that answer, it’s a bit complicated.”

“Professor.”

“What?”

“It’s my callsign. Professor. I got it because I have two doctorates. Biology and Chemistry. I assure you I can keep up.”

Fitz stared at her perfect mouth for a minute, then nodded sharply. “Right. Can I write in your book?”

She nodded and he turned to a blank page, quickly sketched the part of the diagram in question, and then began writing out the equations, explaining as he went. Jemma interrupted to ask salient questions that made him think harder and delve deeper. They eventually both sat on the desk, the notebook on Fitz’s knee. It was the best conversation he’d ever had. That it was with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met was simply an added bonus.

When it came down to it, he wasn’t wrong, exactly, but Jemma had some insights into the F-14 that you couldn’t know from a textbook, and it let him refine the calculations.

They were both grinning as he clicked her pen closed.

“You should have told me last night you were a genius,” he said, handing her notebook and pen back. Electricity raced up his arm as their fingers touched.

She took a half step towards him and was suddenly much too close. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Last night? Sorry, no.” He shouldn’t have gone to the bar, not after the new pilots arrived. Fitz knew better.

Did Jemma’s eyes have to look so lovely in the sunlight?

Jemma reached up, flipped her shades down, and her lips curved into a smile. “You didn’t say anything about tomorrow.” She turned and looked back over her shoulder at him. “Thanks for talking with me. I’ll see you later, gator.”

He held up a hand as she walked away, her hips swaying hypnotically. “After a while…” She was gone before he could finish, and he was left with empty desks in the middle of a hanger that smelled like jet fuel.

****

Jemma’s head swiveled as she scanned the desert sky her jet blasted through. “Anything?” she asked Quake.

“Negative. Radar’s clear.”

“She’s here somewhere.” Jemma grimaced. Their enemy was is a fast-moving single-seat fighter, which would be tricky enough to outmaneuver but the pilot who was manning it, Raina, callsign Flowers, was notorious even among the TopGun instructors for being a pain in the rear. She broke rules and cheated during dogfights, which she didn’t get penalized for, but the students would if they did the same.

Jemma wiggled her fingers to relax them. “She’s probably too low for us to pick up.”

“It does sound like something Flowers would do,” Quake said. “She’ll probably pop up on our tail in a moment.” There was a pause. “Do you want to do a low turn? We could accidently drop below the ten-thousand-foot ceiling and it might give us the upper hand.”

“That would break the rules of engagement.”

Daisy gave a very exasperated sigh. “Duh. For like fifteen seconds, and Flowers is already breaking them. We’d get a slap on the wrist.”

“I’m not risking being penalized.”

“Jemma!” Daisy whined.

Jemma’s heart was thudding. “We don’t break the rules,” Jemma reiterated.

“Right, even when those rules mean you can’t hook up with Mr. Sexy-Teacher?”

“I…what. No. And don’t call him that.”

Quake giggled. “You’ve got it so bad. It’s kind of painfully obvious that you want to get horizontal with him.” Jemma banked into a sharp turn to make Daisy shut up, only the giggle resumed when she leveled the jet back out. “Did you feel him up after class? What that what you were up to?” She made a kissy noise and Jemma rolled her eyes, and then the jet, making Daisy yelp.

“No, I had a question about the mathematics and he kindly explained.”

“God, Jemma, for you that’s like second base.”

“I hate you.”

“I know—oh, shit.”

An alarm screamed in the cockpit and Jemma jigged the plane into a defensive maneuver.

“Flowers on our six,” Quake said. “Fuck, she’s closing fast.”

Jemma went into one textbook perfect move after the other, but despite pushing the jet to the limit, Flowers kept on their tail.

“She’s going to have missile lock in thirty seconds at this rate,” Quake said. “But I think if you dove and flipped around that hill—”

“That’s below the ceiling,” Jemma said, voice flat.

Quake swore again, but didn’t argue. The complex spiral she’d been discussing with Fitz earlier would probably work, but again, they’d end up below ten-thousand feet. She jerked left into an ascent instead.

“That’s not going to—” Quake was cut off as the computer squealed a warning that their enemy had a lock on them.

“You’re dead,” Flower’s voice was emotionless over the radio.

Quake’s helmet thunked against the back of her seat.

****

It’d been a terrible day. She’d lost, disappointing the instructions and her RIO, and she had no idea where she stood with Fitz.

Jemma banged her locker closed, only to find Bobbi right there, smirking. Even better.

“Good job losing,” Bobbi said. She’d won her first exercise, of course, and had obviously come to rub it in.

Jemma crossed her arms. “At least I followed the rules of engagement.”

“I still got the points.” Bobbi shrugged, but then her face softened. “Rough going against Flowers first thing. She’s a bitch, and it shows in her flying. If it helps, I still believe you’re my competition for first.”

Jemma didn’t know what to think about that. “Um, thanks.”

Quake walked up beside her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, weirdly enough.”

Bobbi chuckled. “I’ll see you at dinner, losers.” She swept her fingers through her over-teased hair and strode off.

Jemma made a face as Bobbi flounced out of the locker room. “Now everything’s back to normal.”


	4. Rio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _a/n: Rio by Duran Duran_

Jemma stood ramrod straight beside Quake in Melinda May’s office. Being summoned first thing in the morning was not a good sign. Next to Jemma, Daisy quailed under May’s harsh glare. The harsh California light streaming through the windows made everything look flat and bleak.

“Care to explain yesterday’s performance?” May asked.

“Can you elaborate?” Jemma said. “We followed all the parameters of the combat exercise and used recommended defense maneuvers.”

Quake heaved a huge sigh.

May raised an eyebrow. “But you lost.” She came around her desk and into Jemma’s personal space. “I was led to believe you are a gifted pilot, Professor. I expect more from you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Jemma carefully controlled her tone. She wanted to yell that Flowers had broken the rules of engagement. That clearly it couldn’t be her fault that she’d lost. Though Jemma had the sneaking suspicion it was.

“I think you’re smarter than this,” May said. She walked around them and stepped in close to Daisy.

“Quake, do you want to fill me in?”

“Sorry, Prof,” Daisy murmured, then spoke louder. “Jemma is a brilliant aviator, ma’am. But she is very averse to breaking the rules. She plays it safe. She calculates in her head more possible scenarios than anyone else I know, but she picks the known one. The tested one.”

Jemma gritted her teeth. That’s how you stayed alive.

May nodded and glanced at Jemma. “I can guess why.”

“Becausese it’s the right thing to do.” It sounded trite even to her ears, but when rules were broken, people died. Good people. People she cared about.

May put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you let some things go. Dismissed.”

Jemma did an about-face and walked out of the office. In the hallway, Quake grabbed her arm. “Hey, Jems, I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Look, you can’t keep anything bad from ever happening by obeying every rule. It won’t keep you safe. It won’t keep people from dying, or your heart from being broken.”

“My first RIO would still be here if she hadn’t flown with that—”

Quake shook her. “Yeah, that pilot screwed up. But it wasn’t you. And you’re not doing what’s best for me if we flunk out.”

Jemma took a deep breath and her gaze went to the floor. “I can try. But this was always me, it’s not like a switch got thrown when my friends died.”

“But you used to know when to take the risk and when not to. And you’re right, usually not to is the best answer. Keeping a cool head is a good thing, but May’s right, maybe it’s time to remember that not every risk is a bad thing.”

“I’ll try.” Jemma’s heart was beating wildly, and she curled her hands into fists.

“Okay, that’s good.” Quake gave her a quick hug. “Remember we can talk if you need it. Now let’s get to class. I know you want to stare like a dummy at our hot-stuff teacher.”

“I do not ‘stare like a dummy’, thank you very much.”

“Right. Whatever you say.”

****

They were in a regular classroom this time, with another instructor that gave them a very boring lecture on jet engines, but then Fitz appeared and gave a much less boring lecture on the effects of flying into the backwash from engines and why flight formations were the way they were.

Jemma had a lot of notes by the time he finished, which was far too soon. She could listen to him talk about friction and thrust dynamics endlessly.

There might have been a couple of hearts doodled in the margins of her notes.

“Are we done?” Mockingbird asked, leaning back in her chair. “Not all of us are enjoying this nearly as much as Prof is.”

“Sorry,” Fitz said. “But not yet.” He grinned. “Pop quiz. I assume you’ve all done the assigned reading. Now’s your chance to prove it.”

Jemma perked up. Of course, she’d done the assigned reading. She hoped there was a bonus question at the end so she could show off.

Fitz handed out the test and smiled shyly at her as he gave her a copy. She grinned back and immediately went to work. It was easy, and she completed it quickly, then went back and added extra detail and drawings to her answers. No bonus question, so she made up her own extra question and wrote an answer to that.

She was still the first one done.

Giving up on waiting to turn it in, she stood and walked to the front of the room. Fitz had glasses on that she hadn’t seen before and was reading a textbook. When he glanced up at her she had to inhale sharply as her toes curled in her boots. Scholarly was a great look on him.

“Turning your test in?” he asked quietly, and she had to glance down at the papers in her hand before she remembered what she was doing.

She stuck her hand out. “Yes. I’m done. You didn’t ask about Chapter 23 and the dynamics of rotation, so I put something in about that.”

Fitz lifted an eyebrow. “Showing off?”

“I do occasionally remember how.” His fingers brushed hers as he took the test and Jemma inhaled sharply as Fitz’s eyes widened. He looked down. “I’ll grade this immediately. Please wait and I’ll hand the tests back after everyone is finished.”

She nodded and returned to her table, where Quake was grumbling to herself about one of the questions. Jemma pulled put her textbook and highlighters and flipped to the next week’s material, wanting to get a head start.

It seemed to take forever until everyone had their tests turned in and Fitz had finished with the grading. “Scores were not as good as I was hoping for. You all need to study harder for next week.” He passed the papers back and there was a series of curses and groans from the others.

“Ugh. I need a beer.” Quake flopped dramatically down on the table and Jemma rubbed her back.

“Not bad,” Fitz said to Mockingbird, then turned to Jemma. “You need to check question seven.”

Jemma’s stomach sank, and she hastily grabbed her test from his hands. “Thank you.”

Quake shoved her paper in her bag without even looking.

Jemma put the test on the table and stared at it. Bobbi paused on her way out and bent down, tapping the test.

“I guess you’re not as smart as you think you are,” she said. “Teacher isn’t going to want you sucking his dick if you can’t get an A.” She smirked, but then it faded. “Seriously, Prof, I’m sure you’ll do better on the next one. Don’t let it get you down.”

“You want to play volleyball after this?” Elena asked from beside Bobbi. “Maybe we’ll even let you win.”

Jemma looked over at Quake, who shrugged. “Sounds fun. I could use some time in the daylight.”

“We’ll see you on the sand,” Jemma said to Bobbi, who nodded and left. Jemma gathered her things and stood. She clutched the test in her hand as she followed Quake out into the hallway.

“Would you just look at it?” Daisy said. “It can’t be that bad. You probably didn’t include a keyword or something.” She sounded highly irritated and Jemma sighed. Setting her bag down, she flipped to the last page of the test. Her score was 110/100. “How’d you do that?” Quake asked.

“I made up my own bonus question,” Jemma said absently, still staring at the score.

“So what’s wrong with question seven?”

Jemma flipped two pages back and collapsed back against the cinder brick wall of the hallway in relief. There, in red ink and Fitz’s neat handwriting was a note: Dinner? My place at 6 pm? Along with his address.

“Sneaky.” Quake grinned.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Jemma said. “It’s probably frowned on for students to be visiting the homes of instructors.”

“You probably shouldn’t bang them either.”

Jemma stuck her tongue out at Daisy. “It’s dinner.”

“Uh-huh. If you have trouble sitting down tomorrow, I’ll know why!”

“That’s quite enough, thank you. Shall we go trounce everyone at volleyball?”

****

Fitz was puttering around his office and still buzzing from having asked Jemma on something that was very close to a date. There was zero guarantee she’d even show, but imaging having hours sit and talk with her about absolutely anything was worth the risk.

He refused to think about any other scenarios. Absolutely none of which would happen. Probably.

Maybe just a kiss. One. Singular. So he’d know if there was a spark between them or if they were just imagining things. He’d dithered the night before about doing it, but she was so bloody fascinating. And now the ball was in her court. She could show or not. In uniform or not.

His cock twitched in his trousers at the thought of her out of uniform, and he glared down at his crotch. It did not need to get ahead of itself. Sighing, he picked up his briefcase in one hand and a stack of papers with the other. It wasn’t until he was outside the building that he realized he’d left his glasses on. He was slightly farsighted, so he didn’t need them most of the time, and now they were just falling down his nose and he didn’t have a hand to push them up with.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into anyone before he made it to his car.

Keeping his head down, Fitz hurried towards the parking lot. He needed to stop at the grocery store, and make sure everything was tidy, and maybe take a shower. Pausing, he closed his eyes and fought to get control of himself as his mind careened towards Jemma in the shower. Water beading on her skin, her dark hair wet and clinging to her shoulders, and smiling that impish smile of hers.

To his left, a boombox blared Duran Duran. He ignored it until someone yelled: “Your serve, Jemma!”

Fitz’s eyes snapped open and he turned towards the noise. Most of the class appeared to be at the sand volleyball courts. It took him a second to realize that the goddess in the black bikini was Jemma with her hair up in a ponytail.

Oh dear lord.

She was laughing and giving Quake a high-five, which made her tits bounce in a very interesting way. Her skin was glistening with sweat and she had all kinds of freckles in all kinds of interesting places and really, how could she play well with only two tiny scraps of fabric on? Jemma turned her back to him and his mouth went dry. The bottoms of her bikinis were high cut and he could see the sweet curves of her arse.

Jemma bent over, her hands on her knees, and Fitz was treated to the way the fabric pulled taut over her…christ, that was her pussy. Just a hint of it, the dips and folds teasing him through the thin material of her swimwear.

The front of his trousers had gotten ridiculously tight and he seemed to be having a hard time getting enough air into his lungs.

Jemma straightened slightly and caught the ball, serving it with a hard swing to the other team. Fitz had no idea who she was playing against, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from Jemma long enough to figure it out.

“You doing okay?” someone asked and a hand landed on Fitz’s shoulder, making him yelp, but it was only Hunter.

“I’m fine, I’m great. What? Why?”

Hunter snorted. “You’re standing slack-jawed with papers scattered everywhere and it looks like you’re sporting—”

“Nothing,” Fitz said, breaking in before Hunter could complete that thought. “I was just lost in thought.” He looked at the papers he’d been carrying, which were indeed all over the ground. When had that happened? Hunter chuckled as he helped Fitz gather them up.

“Is that the girl you were chatting up at the bar the other night?” Hunter asked as Fitz clutched his briefcase in front of his groin and tried to will his erection away.

“Jemma,” Fitz said.

Hunter nodded. “Bobbi said you two were an item, but I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen you fumbling around just now.”

“We’re not an item.”

“Yet.” Hunter crossed his arms and grinned.

“Don’t you have drinks to pour?”

“It’s my day off and Bob called and invited me to come watch. How could I say no when it’s a chance to see her frolicking in the almost nude?” Hunter nodded towards the game. “Why don’t you put that stuff in that deathtrap car of yours and come join us. I’m sure there’s beer.”

“I have to go to the grocery store.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because the first girl I’ve ever seen you have the hots for is right there dressed like a tart and jiggling her girl bits and you want to go shopping?”

Fitz rolled his eyes.

Hunter crossed his arms and glared. “There’s a story here.”

Fitz darted his eyes around, but there was no one near them. He leaned towards Hunter anyway and lowered his voice. “She’s coming to my house for dinner.”

“You stud!” Hunter gave him a thumbs up. “You get that pussy!”

“We’re going to talk,” Fitz grumbled. “And for the record, my MG is a classic, not a death trap.”

“I hope by “dinner” and “talk” you mean she’s going to be screaming your name while you’re eating her out.”

“Will you quit?” Now that image was going to be circling around in his skull for hours. He could imagine her fingers dug into his hair as she directed him where to go, just like she did the thousands of pounds of steel and jet fuel she flew.

Hunter’s smile dimmed as he looked at Fitz. “Hey, don’t let her hurt you.”

“It’s probably too late for that.”

Hunter nodded and ran a hand over his hair. “Yeah, I’m already in deep with Bob. She’s different, y’know.”

“You say that every time.”

“But this time I mean it. She’s something special. I think I want to marry her.”

Fitz snorted. “You’ve known her a week.”

“So?”

Fitz’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay.”

“I hope your Jemma’s special too.”

“She is.”

They shared a glance, then Hunter’s smile returned. “I better go find Bobbi before she wonders where I am. Come by tomorrow and fill me in, alright?”

“You got it.” Not that there’d be much to talk about, but a post-work pint wouldn’t hurt.

Hunter trotted off and Fitz took one last look at Jemma in all her glory. He was certain he could spend his entire life waking up to those tits. And her brain. Tea and physics. And boobs. Really, he didn’t need much else.

She high-fived Quake and from the general cheering, he put together that they’d won against Piper and Davis. Quake put an arm around Piper’s shoulders and Davis wiped sweat from his face while looking dejected. Bobbi, arm in arm with Hunter, sauntered over and said something to Jemma, which made her laugh, then launch the ball at Bobbi. It looked like that would be the next match up.

It was tempting to stay and watch, but he really did need to get stuff for a summer salad and some kind of wine, or he was going to look like a wanker if Jemma, no, when Jemma showed up.

He tossed his briefcase and papers in the back of his car and started the engine, which purred as it turned over. He kept his baby in working order and well lubed.

Bloody hell, now his mind was back on Jemma and…Fitz groaned and backed his car out of its spot.

If he bought strawberries and whipped cream, would that be too obvious?


	5. Can't Fight This Feeling

Fitz dragged the comb through his hair again and checked that the cuffs of his blue button-up were properly rolled. It was five minutes past six, but Jemma’s tardiness wasn’t worrying him, yet. The freshly made salad sat on the kitchen table, everything in the house was scrubbed, including himself, and he had soft music on the radio.

Butterflies ricocheted off each other in his stomach. He’d never taken the risk of having a student over. He’d never even been tempted. Sure, the pilots in the TopGun program were attractive, but they were also usually arrogant and self-centered. And honestly, not interested in him.

Finding someone incredibly smart, gorgeous, badass, and who seemed like she wanted to kiss him felt like a minor miracle. The pull he had towards her had grown by orders of magnitude as he’d discovered how brilliantly Jemma’s mind worked. Enough that he’d risked a lot to ask her here tonight. Enough to brave the heartache when her training ended and she’d return to whatever aircraft carrier she’d come from.

At six-fifteen, he heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. It shut off and a minute later a rap sounded on his front door. Fitz pushed it open. “Hello,” he said, his eyes roving over Jemma. She had jeans on, along with a tank top with a deep V-neck. Her hair was on top of her head, but still looked a little windblown.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. Her perfume, sweet and flowery, hit him as she breezed past into the living room. “The game ran long, and I needed to shower.” She looked around, studying the large bay windows that looked out over the Pacific. “This is a nice place.”

“Belongs to a friend of mine,” Fitz said, “but he lets me rent it cheap. Can’t beat the view.” The entire sky wore shades of orange and pink as the sun sank towards the horizon.

Jemma looked captivated as the waves rolled to shore. “I prefer seeing it from above,” she whispered.

Fitz had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. To taste all the power and freedom she’d spoke of. To taste her.

He cleared his throat and pointed towards the kitchen. “Dinner?”

“Thank you, I’m famished.” She took the seat he offered, and the glass of sparkling wine.

For a few minutes he busied himself serving the salad, including his homemade vinaigrette, but then silence descended. He shoveled greens into his mouth, chewing while he watched Jemma delicately nip a strawberry.

“You don’t do this much, do you?” she said.

“Eat dinner?”

“Have a student over.” The rest of the strawberry went in her mouth and he endeavored not to think anything that would lead to an embarrassing trouser situation.

“Never,” he said a little breathlessly. “Um, I’ve been doing this several years and…never.”

Jemma nodded and took a bite of salad. “Does this have something to do with math?” she asked, smiling. Probably trying to put him at ease, and it worked to some degree. Physics, g-forces, math, and engineering were all things he could discuss endlessly.

“It does, actually,” he said. “I’d like your opinion on a few things in upcoming lessons. Your knowledge of F-14s is invaluable.”

For a second he thought he saw disappointment on her face, but then she smiled. “I’d love that. Start asking.”

The conversation flowed easily from there.

When dinner finished, they moved to the living room, glasses of wine in hand. He hauled out lesson plans and they looked at the diagrams together, laughing and chatting about engines and wind drag. Fitz couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so comfortable with someone. As long as he didn’t think about her flying tons of steel and how she completely mastered it.

They sat side by side on his sofa, and her hand landed on his knee as she talked excitedly about an engine upgrade he’d been think of proposing to the brass.

His ears shut off as he stared at her fingers on him, felt the weight of her touch. Deep in the pit of his stomach he wanted so much more than simply sitting beside her. Blast, he wasn’t good at this.

“Jemma,” he said. She stopped talking and looked at him. He leaned towards her and cupped her face, skimming his thumb over her lower lip. It didn’t matter anymore that he might just get tonight. Jemma’s mouth opened, but then she caught his wrist.

“No,” she said, standing. “I can’t. I’m sorry Fitz.” Her eyes were wide, and he could see the frantic beat of her pulse in her neck.

His body didn’t seem to understand she no longer sat beside him, it still reached for her. “What?” He staggered to his feet.

Jemma backed towards the door. “I like you too much, Fitz. I don’t want…I’m not here for long. I’m going to leave and we’ll probably never see each other again.”

“I know,” he said. “But that didn’t matter before, did I do something wrong?” He hoped it wasn’t because he taught some of her classes. While it might look bad on paper, Jemma didn’t need him to up her grades.

Jemma shook her head. “No, everything’s right, and that’s what’s wrong. You, I, both of us, we’ll end up hurt.”

“So you’re simply walking away?” The precise courses she plotted in the sky, along with May’s frustration at Jemma’s insistence that rules were there to always be followed, flashed through his mind as anger sizzled to life in his gut. “Don’t you ever take a bloody risk?” he asked. “Because, yeah, this isn’t a great idea, but don’t you pilots always do this? Shag someone different all the time? What makes me different?”

Her face hardened. “I like you,” she said again. “And I’m hardly the one to have casual affairs. Maybe that’s you. I only have your word you don’t do this every couple of months.” She stepped closer to him, and for a moment he stopped breathing as he thought she might still kiss him. Jemma took his hand, her grip fierce. “I can’t do this.”

She let him go, even as he tried to hang onto her hand, and headed to her motorcycle. She threw her leg over it and roared off into the twilight. Fitz watched her go until he could no longer hear the engine.

Damn it. He’d mucked everything up. And ‘I like you’ was a bloody stupid reason not to get into bed with someone. Fitz grabbed the end of the bottle of wine and chugged it. He understood. She didn’t want to take the chance she might fall in love with him. Captain Simmons didn’t want to get hurt.

Fine.

Though it was too bloody late for him.

He was already in love.

****

Jemma walked into class the next day with her head held high. Daisy, beside her, wore a huge grin. They’d won their flight training exercise that morning, even though Jemma had hardly slept after that fiasco with Fitz. What had she been thinking, going to his house? Of course he’d expected she’d come for a shag. And she had, at first, but as they’d talked, bickered, and worked together, something else had blossomed in her chest.

Something terrifying.

So she’d run.

It would be better for both of them. Fitz didn’t need to be waiting on someone who might never come home.

Following rules had paid off that morning. When she’d acquired on lock on their opponent, it’d all been textbook.

May stood at the front of the classroom, her face unreadable, as Jemma and Daisy took their seats. Bobbi came over and patted Jemma’s shoulder.

“I heard you won,” Bobbi said.

“Yes, we did.” Jemma set her notebook on the table. “I believe you did as well.”

“Which means you’re still losing.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and Bobbi went to sit down beside her RIO. “Does she ever take a break?” Daisy asked.

“From being an arse? I don’t think so.”

“Speaking of asses, here’s one you like.” Daisy’s eyes flicked over Jemma’s shoulder, and she turned in her seat to see Fitz, eyes fixed straight ahead, walking to the front of the classroom. Daisy looked from him to Jemma. “You both look like you have sticks up your butts, did last night not go well?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Damn it, Jems, you’re supposed to get laid. Great. Now you’ll both be totally uptight.”

“Take a chill pill. It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

Jemma sighed and opened her notebook. After class maybe she’d talk to Fitz about being friends. They could eat lunch and chat sometimes. In a public place. Where nothing could ever happen.

“Eyes front,” May snapped, and the room immediately silenced. “Some of you are congratulating yourselves on a job well done today, but it none of it was good enough. I invited Dr. Fitz to this class to help me explain what one of the winning teams did wrong.”

Jemma’s mouth went dry.

“Professor, Quake,” May continued. “You won, you got your points, but I am disappointed. You win is the result of luck over skill.” May gestured at Fitz, who shot Jemma an apologetic look. “Please explain.” She handed him chalk.

Despite having looked sorry for a quarter of a second, Fitz had no problem trashing her as he drew Jemma’s flight path on the chalk board. He explained the source of her maneuvers, and why they were the wrong choices. Jemma stopped writing notes at some point after she broke her first pencil in frustration. This had to be on purpose. He was humiliating her because she hadn’t gotten into bed with him.

The jerk.

She’d never been so furious before in her life. Fitz avoiding her gaze only confirmed her suspicions, as did how he scurried out of the room when May dismissed him.

Class lasted another ten excruciating minutes. When it finished, Jemma shoved her notebook at Daisy and bolted from the class, ignoring Bobbi’s self-satisfied smirk.

She found Fitz tossing his briefcase into the back of his MG.

“Leaving?” she asked, forcing herself to walk slowly up to him despite her anger.

Fitz shut his car door. “Sorry about that, not my idea.”

“I bet it wasn’t.”

He frowned. “I think May wanted—”

“Don’t patronize me. You were the one who stood there and listed everything wrong, even though I won the scenario.” Her fists clenched at her side.

He put his hands on his hips. “Did you even pay attention? I gave you ten other solutions that would have made you get the lock faster. That would work if a second enemy jet was present.”

“All of them are questionable.”

He scoffed. “They’re not, but you’re so blasted sure that nothing will go wrong if you play it safe. I know what happened, that you lost friends in a crash, it’s in your record. That doesn’t mean you can save Quake, or yourself, by not letting yourself feel your way through the sky. You told me you like the freedom of flying, but you put so many rules on yourself up there you might as well be chained to the ground.”

Jemma sputtered. “Don’t even…this is about me not wanting to shag you last night.”

“Don’t insult me like that.” He leaned towards her and jabbed a finger at her chest. “And you did want to. Don’t lie now, but you’re afraid. Because it’s a risk. Your heart might get involved.”

“Oh.” She shoved at his shoulder. “And yours is just fine?”

He shook his head. “You’re right, sleeping with you wouldn’t put my heart on the line.”

She gasped.

“Because you already have it.”

Jemma froze. She couldn’t think of what to say. She simply gaped at his words.

Fitz’s shoulders slumped. He got in his car and slammed the door. He took off, careening out into traffic.

Jemma watched the rear of his car until he turned a corner. She cursed. Fitz had pretty much said he had feelings for her, and she’d stood there like a ninny. And while she still felt mad over him taking apart her technique in class, she could admit it mostly had to do with him being right about the flying.

“Go,” she said out loud to herself. Go after him.

Jemma ran for her motorcycle. She leapt on and gunned the engine, opening up the throttle as she sped away from the base. The wind whipped at her short hair as she leaned low over the fuel tank.

She didn’t obey the speed limit and wove in and out of traffic, her heart pounding.

At Fitz’s house, he was just getting out of his car as she drove up. Palms swayed along the street in the sea air. He started at her. “Jemma?” Grabbing his tie, she pulled him up his porch steps and he let them in. “What are you doing?” he asked as she pushed him against the door.

“Taking a risk.”


	6. Heaven Is a Place on Earth

Fitz’s breath left his lungs as Jemma’s body collided with his, pushing him hard against the door. He didn’t have time to do more than gasp before their lips met. Her hips canted forward, grinding into his cock, which had hardened to stone he instant she’d grabbed his tie. Her core blazed with heat even through the layers of clothing between them and he whimpered, thrusting desperately against her as she commanded his mouth.

Fitz frantically pulled at her leather jacket, dragging it down her arms. She shrugged it to the floor. His palm settled over her arse, kneading as she rolled her hips. Jemma moaned, then pushed back to strip her shirt off. Her trousers followed, leaving her in a functional white bra and knickers. Her tawny nipples were puckered points against the thin cotton, and he dearly wanted to give them all the attention they deserved.

“Get naked,” Jemma said, turning and walking towards the bedroom.

Fitz stared at her arse, flexing as she strode away. He didn’t remember how hands worked until she disappeared through his door. His tie nearly choked him as he yanked it off. He managed to get a few of the buttons on his shirt undone before he pulled it over his head, and he cursed the inventor of the belt buckle as he struggled to get it undone. Finally, he pushed his trousers and boxers down and started after Jemma, cock leading the way. Only he staggered and nearly hit the ground. He slapped a hand against the wall. Right, trousers all the way off, not just around his ankles. It seemed impossible for a second, but then he remembered his shoes. Fitz kicked them off, got free of his trousers, and rushed to the bedroom.

Jemma lay on his black quilt, bra and knickers gone, legs bent and feet wide apart. Her hand stroked her sex, her labia and fingertips glistening with her arousal.

His legs gave up working. “Jemma,” he said, the word sound hoarse in his dry throat. 

She patted the bed beside her while her eyes roved over him. Fitz wasn’t sure he could move until Jemma, her gaze focusing on his prick, bit her lip and moved her fingers faster.

He launched himself onto the bed in a tangle of limbs that Jemma immediately sorted by pushing him onto his back and straddling him.

 _Oh god, yes, please._ “Please,” he said, cupping her breast. It fit his palm perfectly; a warm, delightful weight with the tip a hard point pushing against his hand. His free hand curled around Jemma’s other tit and he encouraged her to lean forward until he could nuzzle the valley between her breasts, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her.

Jemma moaned, arching into his hands. “Condom?”

“Drawer.”

She stretched over to his night table and found one. Package in hand, she scooted down his thighs, taking her lush tits out of reach. He tried to sit up to follow them, but Jemma pushed him back down. “Let me look,” she said, very firmly. His cock twitched. Precum leaked warm and sticky onto his belly.

Jemma trailed a finger up his stand. “Very nice, Fitz,” she said, breathlessly.

“Uh, thanks?”

“Permission to buzz the tower?”

“Yes…wait, what?” He pushed himself up on his elbows as Jemma bent over and licked her tongue up the underside of his cock, from his balls to the tip, where she lapped at the precum. He thought he might pass out, between the feel of her warm tongue on his prick and the sheer erotic sight of it all. He moaned and his hips twitched.

Jemma rolled the condom over him, her movements sure. She kissed her way back up, from his abdomen to his chest, up his neck, until she took charge of his mouth again. Her tongue explored and demanded, and he was very happy to let her do as she wanted. When she sat up, her lips pink and swollen, all he could do was watch as she positioned his cock at her opening and slid down. Her channel embraced him as it welcomed him home.

“Jemma,” he said, reclaiming a breast with one hand while the other settled on her hip.

Her body undulated, her pussy tightening around his prick. “Is this mine?” she asked.

“All yours,” he gasped.

She rolled her hips, mewling, with her gaze fixed on his. “Mine,” she repeated. She rode him roughly, tits bouncing, and little moans escaping her lips. He tried sitting up again, but Jemma seized both his wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Don’t move.”

He didn’t, transfixed by her words, as she used him for her pleasure. Jemma was magnificent, a force of nature, and he had no bloody clue why she felt possessive over him, of all people, but he couldn’t stop the feeling that he’d gladly give her anything she wanted. His time, his body…his heart. She’d shatter it when she left, but he didn’t care. He’d always have these moments to remember.

She scratched down his chest, making him hiss and his hips jerk up.

“Oh,” she murmured. “That’s—” She broke off into moans as he repeated the movement, biting his lip in concentration as he did his best to make her remember him too. The pleasure coiled tight in his belly, and he could feel his sac drawing up.

Jemma groaned, her head falling back, chest heaving as she came. Her channel pulsed around him, begging him to keep moving. He wanted to. If only he could get her off over and over again, but he was quickly heading towards his own peak. “Jemma,” he gasped.

Her eyes opened and locked on his. Perfect lips curved up into a smile as she slid one of her legs forward, twisting her body slightly as she clamped her inner muscles tight.

Fitz lost all semblance of control. He thrust a half dozen more times up into her, his fingers gripping her strong thighs. He fell over the edge into ecstasy. His hips snapped up a last time, burying himself deep in her pussy as his cock bucked.

His vision whited out and for a few moments, all that existed were the waves of bliss radiating through him.

Jemma murmured softly, stroking his chest, as he finally came back to himself. She pulled herself off him, letting him deal with the condom, before snuggling against him to press soft kisses to his throat.

He curled tight about her, not sure how to tell her she’d just changed his world forever. He’d never feel at home now unless he held her in his arms.

#

Jemma swiveled her head, scanning the horizon as the F-14 blasted through the morning air. They were facing off against The Calvary this morning, which should have been terrifying, but Jemma didn’t have it in her to be worried. She simply felt too good. It’d been difficult to get up early enough to make it in time to have a quick shower before suiting up.

She hadn’t wanted to leave Fitz’s bed, and he’d grumbled endlessly as she’d dressed. He had promised her he’d be up in the air control tower during her mission before yawning and grumping something about tea. Jemma had wanted to stay and have a cup with him, but she really had to get the smell of sex off her.

It turned out she hadn’t needed to worry too much. Daisy’s bunk hadn’t been slept in either and she’d hurried in with an apologetic smile right before they had to report to the tarmac.

“You’re humming,” Daisy said, her voice crackling with static in Jemma’s ear.

“Sorry. Anything on radar?”

“I’d tell you if there was, so no avoiding this. I know you weren’t at dinner and your bike was missing. You were pretty pissed off at Fitz. Did you go into town to work off some steam?”

“What? No.”

“Humming.”

Jemma sighed. Quake was apparently not about to let this go. “I went after Fitz.”

“Oh. Um, did you make up?”

“I crept in this morning, so you won’t think I was gone all night. Only I shouldn’t have bothered because somebody else didn’t sleep in their own bunk either.”

Quake laughed. “Damn, Jems. Was it worth it? Because my night was bitchin’.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, absolutely.”

Silence filled the channel. “You okay, Prof?” Daisy asked. “Because you sound weird, almost like—”

“Contact, three o’clock.” Jemma immediately jerked the stick, shutting her RIO up with g-forces before she could blab whatever she’d been about to. Not whatever. Jemma knew what Quake would say because it was the same thing her heart had been whispering since she’d kissed Fitz.

Carefully, Jemma packed any thoughts of him away. Right now, she had to concentrate and blasted well show Fitz she could do more than copy moves out of a book.

“Nearly on our six,” Quake snapped.

Jemma didn’t respond, just went into another pattern meant to throw May off their tail. It didn’t work.

“I could tap the brakes,” Jemma looked over her shoulder, searching the sky for the speck that was her enemy.

Daisy snorted. “Predictable, and she would need to be nearly up our asses for that to work.”

Patterns and images flashed through Jemma’s mind in a flurry. What would May expect her to do? She had a bogey on her six that was difficult to shake. At this point, she needed to climb or dive steeply, couple it with a turn to try and get them nose to nose. Or at least she needed to do it if she followed what she’d been taught in training.

She pulled back on the stick, heading towards the cloudless sky.

Quake groaned. “The Cavalry is going to be expecting this.”

“That’s what I hope.”

A sharp intake of breath came through the coms. “Jemma?”

“It’s just a little risk.” A tiny one. Only a fifteen percent chance of a stall.

May followed them into the climb, the cabin squawking with alarms as she attempted a missile lock.

Jemma counted to three and rolled hard into a steep inverted dive. G-forces smacked her back into her seat, feeling like an elephant on her chest and legs. She leveled out just under ten-thousand feet, immediately climbing back up above the exercise’s ceiling while throwing the jet into a turn.

“Get ready,” she yelled at Quake.

May bottomed out of her dive, her plane’s nose facing Jemma and Daisy, almost like she’d been setting herself up for the shot. The jet’s computer’s confirmed missile lock on May’s jet. They raced towards each other, Jemma pulling up and away at the last minute. The F-14 shuddered in the turbulence from other jet.

“We won,” Daisy crowed. “Damn, Jemma, we won!”

#

Fitz grinned at the notes he made as the control tower confirmed Jemma’s target lock. From the data and the descriptions radioed in from spotters, Jemma had put on quite the show.

Phil Coulson, May’s husband and a history teacher at the local middle school, sipped his coffee with a frown. “Now she’s going to be cranky and it’s pizza night.”

Fitz really needed to sit down with the man and ask him some questions. He’d been together with May for a long time, and somehow, they’d made it work. Despite the long hours and danger, they’d forged a lasting relationship. How had they done it? How did Phil deal with the worry?

The radio crackled. “Permission to buzz the tower?” Jemma’s voice filled the small space. Fitz sat up straighter and edged his chair closer to the table as his cock perked up.

Phil quirked an eyebrow at him.

The soldier manning the radio frowned. “Negative, Ghostrider, the pattern is full.”

The connection cut off, but Fitz was almost certain Jemma hadn’t acknowledged that denial.

Phil lifted his coffee to his lips, tipped the mug up, and then yelped as a jet made the whole structure shake.

Fitz felt like it happened in slow motion. Phil spilling coffee down his front. The F-14 swinging to the side as it passed. He could see the pilot, her visor trained on him. That was Jemma. His Jemma, who’d ridden his prick like a goddess just the night before. He’d been right where the tons of steel that made up the jet were, and she’d controlled him just as well.

The F-14 roared towards the horizon.

“Crap,” Phil sputtered, wiping at his chin.

Fitz knew he had a goofy smile on his face while his eyes followed Jemma as she brought the F-14 around for a landing. His poor cock strained against his trousers.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up, cheeks heating, into Phil’s face. His expression wasn’t unkind. “Think we should talk.”

Fitz swallowed. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Phil took an offered towel to dab at the coffee on his shirt. “And tell your girlfriend not to do that.”

The idea of Jemma obeying any order Fitz gave her was ludicrous. “She isn’t going to listen.” Wait, should he have argued the girlfriend point. How did Phil even know they had a thing?

Phil snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

Fitz’s eyes returned to Jemma’s F-14. The wheels sent up a puff of smoke as they touched down. 

He couldn’t wait until he could get her alone.


	7. Crazy for You

Jemma stood rigidly at attention with her eyes trained forward. She had to keep staring at the corner of the picture frame hanging on May’s office wall because if she even glanced briefly at Daisy, they’d both dissolve into giggles. That wouldn’t improve May’s mood or make the dressing down they were about to receive any easier, but the flyby had been worth it.

Her feet hardly seemed to be on the floor Jemma felt so light, so free.

Just as fun as buzzing the tower had been the minute she’d walked into the building, her helmet under her arm, and caught sight of Fitz. He’d tried to be casual, one shoulder leaning against the wall, but the heat in his eyes and the way his tongue had dragged over his lips had nearly set her on fire. The instant May dismissed her and Daisy, Jemma planned to find Fitz and drag him to the first room with a lock she could find and screw him until neither of them could walk right.

Her toes curled in her combat boots and her nipples pressed uncomfortably tight against the rough cotton of her bra.

“Are you paying attention, Captain Simmons?” May snapped.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“As I was saying,” May continued, displeasure coloring every syllable. “That while I’m glad Simmons figured out that the point of these exercises is winning, and I do not take being outmaneuvered personally, because that was excellent flying, but rules do exist for a reason and you can’t simply forget all of them when it suits you.” May’s lips were a tight line and her expression gave nothing away. Jemma honestly didn’t know exactly how much trouble she and Daisy were in.

“I apologize, ma’am,” Jemma said. “Though I request leniency because of the high cloud ceiling and visibility being at more than a hundred miles today. I was not being unsafe.”

“That’s why I’m only docking a third of your points. You and Quake are now in second place. Congratulations. With that out of the way, I am going to personally request that you, Captain Simmons, do not overly distract the best civilian instructor this program has.”

Jemma finally glanced at Daisy, who grimaced.

“Dr. Fitz and I are not doing anything against the rules,” Jemma said. Hopefully, that was true. In orientation, they hadn’t been expressly forbidden to get into bed with civilian contractors.

“Certainly not the letter of the law.” May crossed her arms and rested her rear against the edge of her desk. “I know, I checked.” May fixed Jemma with a glare. “In the spirit of the law, I will be grading all your assignments and tests in his class. Daisy’s as well. Not that I think you, Simmons, will have any problem receiving top marks.”

“Thank you?” That’d almost sounded like a compliment.

Daisy snorted very softly.

“Now, having said that—” The phone of her desk ringing shrilly interrupted May. She turned and grabbed the receiver, her shoulders stiffening at whatever she heard. “Excuse me for just a second,” she said in a polite voice, setting the receiver down on her desk. “I have to take this. You two wait in the hall. Dismissed.”

Jemma did an about-face and hurried out of the office. Daisy shut the door behind them. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her laughter. “You should have seen your face when she brought up Fitz,” Daisy cackled. “You went white as a sheet. Did you really think nobody around here would know?”

“It was yesterday,” Jemma grumbled.

“Speaking of.” Daisy pointed a finger and Jemma’s head whipped toward where she was pointing. Fitz stood at the end of the hallway, and she had to stop herself from running to him and flinging herself into his arms.

Instead, she held up a hand and mouthed ‘wait’ and gestured with her head towards May’s door.

Fitz deflated but stayed where he was, his face plaintive. Jemma doubted she looked any different and did her best to tell Fitz with her gaze that she would have him naked as soon as she could. His brows rose and she could see the promise of all the wicked things he’d do to her with his tongue.

“Can you guys stop eye-fucking for two seconds?” Daisy said.

Jemma sighed turning to look at her RIO. “Really?”

Daisy toed the linoleum. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What are you going to do when this is over? When we graduate?”

Jemma’s head sagged forward, and she rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to leave him,” Daisy said it as a fact, not a question.

“I barely know him.”

“I don’t think that changes anything.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” she confessed in a very small voice.

May’s door opened and she stepped into the hall, her mouth a grim line. “There’s been an incident. We’re suspending training and sending pilots to the carrier involved. Once it’s resolved, you’ll complete your training here.” 

Blood rushed in Jemma’s ears. “Leaving?” she croaked. They couldn’t. It was too soon. She’d just found Fitz. She’d do her duty, but for the first time, she felt like she had someone to come home to. Jemma hoped he would understand. That he would wait for her.

“Your skills are needed. Pack and be out front and ready to go in twenty for transport. Alert the others.”

Jemma held back a sigh. No time to say goodbye, not a proper one anyway. A quick kiss, a few rushed words.

May looked past Jemma. “Dr. Fitz, just who I wanted to see. I need to speak with you in my office.”

Jemma inhaled sharply, and Fitz, looking dazed, plodded towards May’s office. His sky-blue eyes met hers as they passed, and their fingers barely grazed. Even that faint brush sent heat shooting through her. Then he was gone, the door shutting behind him. Her chance for a brief farewell evaporated.

“We better hurry,” Daisy said, tugging at her sleeve.

Jemma could only nod.

#

Behind the bar glasses clinked loudly, cans rattled, and creative British curses colored the air blue.

Fitz took a drink from his bottle of beer and shot Hunter a sympathetic look. Hunter flipped him off.

“Is he okay?” Coulson asked, turning to look at Hunter. Phil had turned out not to go by that, he used his last name, and Fitz really couldn’t argue the point.

“No,” Fitz said, rubbing a temple. “Bobbi’s leaving and he’s not taking it well. Hunter always gets a little broken-hearted when the pilots leave, but this is the first time I’ve seen him actually upset. He really likes her.”

Coulson sipped his whiskey. “He does know she’s coming back, right?” He faced Fitz.

“He can hope she does.” Fitz picked at the label on his beer.

“Ah.” Coulson set his drink down on a coaster. Water rings stained the table, it was covered with graffiti, and someone had carved ‘Navy 4 Life’ into it with a knife, but Coulson still used a coaster. “How about you? I’m guessing you jumped without thinking at the chance Melinda offered you.”

“I said yes before she finished speaking. It’ll be an excellent chance for me to see and hear pilots in combat in real-time.” He pulled a strip of the label off, then looked up at Coulson.

He wore a sad smile. “It’s a great opportunity, but you can’t protect her. There’s a lot to loving someone who flies for a living, and some of it is accepting that they’re going to leave to fly off into the wild blue yonder.”

“I’d never ask her to stop.”

“It’s not always that easy. You need to ask about kids because that’ll ground her and if she’s not completely on board with the idea she’ll resent you.”

Fitz could so easily imagine holding a wee babe in his arms, with Jemma’s dark hair and fierce intelligence.

“You better tell her you want a family,” Coulson said. “It’s written all over your face.”

“I will.”

“Besides being on the same page, you have to get used to the idea that the woman you love might not come back one day. It’s dangerous. You tell her you love her every chance you get.”

Fitz nodded, then put the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, draining the rest. He could barely taste it.

Hunter plucked it from his fingers before Fitz could put it back on the table and replaced it with a fresh one. “Thanks,” Fitz said. He loved Jemma so damn much.

Hunter grunted and grabbed a chair, turning it around before straddling it to sit. “Is this the support group for bloody idiots that love women who fly?”

“Yes!” Coulson said cheerfully. Fitz groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Coulson patted his back.

“Hooray for us.” Hunter’s voice sounded morose. “At least Fitz gets to follow her to sea.”

“I’d follow her anywhere,” he mumbled into his hands.

“I know,” Hunter said, his tone changed to one of resigned understanding. “They left so fast this morning I didn’t even get to talk to Bob, can you give her this for me?” Hunter slid something across the table, and Fitz moved his hands to find a white envelope with ‘Bobbi’ printed on the front in Hunter’s neat handwriting. “When do you go?”

“Five in the morning.” Fitz took the letter and tucked it into his pocket. “Oh-bloody-early hours.”

Coulson leaned back in his chair, making it creak. “There’s nothing like a woman who can handle a flight stick,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Fitz and Hunter nodded in solemn comradery.

#

Jemma couldn’t exactly hate being back on The Enterprise. It was familiar, and she woke up knowing exactly how her morning would go. Only one thing was missing. She’d left her heart in Miramar.

Following a brief cold shower, she dressed for breakfast and met Daisy in the hallway.

Her RIO caught sight of her and grinned widely. It looked suspicious.

“Is there something you need to say?” Jemma asked as they headed towards the mess. They rounded a corner and almost collided with Bobbi and Elena.

“I thought we were going to get a break from being evaluated,” Bobbi said, eyeing Jemma. “But I guess not.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised a brow. She looked just as guilty as Daisy. Elena rolled her eyes.

Wait, had her RIO planned something with these two?

“What?” She felt there was something she didn’t know that she should. “We’re back on active duty.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said. “But Captain May sent someone to see how we perform on patrol and during combat. MiGs aren’t the same as the jets we’re against in training.”

Bobbi reached out and tapped Jemma’s nose. “One guess which civilian contractor she asked to babysit us.”

Jemma stopped breathing. She launched herself down the hallway, hardly able to think. He was here.

“They bunked him next to Davis!” Elena called after her.

Jemma raised a hand in acknowledgment and changed which way she was headed.

Fitz was here.

Less than forty-eight hours and the desperation to see him pressed at her so sharply that she could barely maintain the fast walk allowed in the carrier’s narrow corridors. She bit her lip, nervous and bubbling with excitement that kept making her lips curl up into a smile.

She passed Piper and Davis in the hallway.

“She knows,” Piper said, nudging Davis with her elbow.

“Second door from the end on the port side,” he called from behind her.

Jemma stopped in front of it, straightened her uniform, ran a hand over her hair to make sure it’d remained in place and knocked.

A woman opened the door.


	8. Summer of '69

Small didn’t being to describe the berth Fitz had been assigned. Cramped, maybe. Or itty-bitty. Wee. But from the way Captain Hand was talking, it seemed he’d been granted unimaginable luxury. The Captain’s scowl let him know she wasn’t happy, though Davis had gotten much the same look, so Fitz didn’t think the dislike was personal, more he was a disruption and distraction in the middle of an intense situation.

He’d do his best not to cause any problems. He’d told her that at least five times now, but apparently he required a detailed description of what every person in the control tower did, and how he could mess it up. Fitz didn’t think she’d appreciate him interrupting to let her know he was very familiar with all of it.

However, the Captain needed to wrap it up soon, he had a pilot to find.

The knock on his door came as a relief.

Hand spun and opened the door. Fitz caught sight of neatly-styled brown hair and a forehead he knew.

Jemma.

Neither his heart nor his hands knew what to do, and he ended up sticking his hands on his hips while trying not to grin like an idiot.

Jemma, on the other hand, looked ready to commit murder. Lightning flashed in her eyes and she drew her arm back like she was about to clock her CO. A second later recognition must have hit because Jemma snapped to attention.

“Ma’am,” she said, her face blank.

Captain Hand sighed. “Simmons, I see May did not exaggerate, you must have run all the way here.” Jemma didn’t so much as blink. Fitz dug his fingers into his hips to keep from launching himself around Hand to take Jemma into his arms. “Don’t let this be a distraction, and since you’re here, please show Fitz to the Mess Hall, and then the Control Tower.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jemma replied. She moved aside to let Hand past, who didn’t even bother coming up with any last words for Fitz, which was a relief.

Jemma closed the door with a resounding clang.

Neither of them moved, Jemma’s feet remained fixed to the floor as she glared at him. Fear turned his stomach queasy in a way even the helicopter ride to the carrier hadn’t. She must not be here for the reasons Fitz wanted to her to be. He was probably going to hear something about interfering in her career or being clingy. Maybe he’d get a nice it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech.

“Jemma?” he whispered.

“There was a woman in your room,” she said through gritted teeth.

_Oh._

The relief at Jemma being jealous instead of ready to drop him off the side of the ship made him giddy. Jealousy he could work with.

“I don’t think she wants me here,” Fitz said, looking past Jemma at the door.

Jemma glanced over her shoulder, as if Captain Hand might still be standing there, then she crossed the room in quick strides. She stopped, close enough that the hair on his arms rose as if all of him were seeking her. Her breath came in short huffs, and her eyes scanned his face.

He didn’t dare do anything besides will her to feel all the love inside him that yearned for her.

“You’re mine,” Jemma whispered.

He hopelessly, utterly was.

Her mouth claimed his while her hands gripped the front of his shirt, yanking him flush against her. “Jemma,” murmured. “Please, Jemma.” Fitz had no idea what he was asking for, he just needed her.

She nipped at his bottom lip. “Say it.”

Say what? Most of his blood had left his brain for his cock, which throbbed with desire, and he couldn’t quite follow. “Jemma?”

She pushed him hard, and he ended up sitting down hard on the narrow bunk. Jemma straddled him, wrapped his tie around her hand, and tipped his face up to hers. “Say you’re mine.”

“You’re mine,” he dutifully echoed. Wait. One of Jemma’s brows rose, and she dropped her hand down, hovering her fingers over his straining erection. “I mean, I’m yours.”

Jemma slid a finger along his shaft. Fitz bucked, the feeling of one single point of contact on his cock, through the layers of his trousers and boxers, was enough to make him lose control.

Then it disappeared. Jemma slid off him and stepped back. “Naked, on the bed, now.”

He scrambled, his clothes flying as he did what she asked. Fitz trembled as he laid himself out, hoping he didn’t look too much like an absurdly pale starfish.

Jemma slowly undid the buttons of her top, pulling it off to display her tight cotton sports bra. Her nipples were hard, clearly visible through the thin fabric. She wore this in the air as she manhandled tons of steel and jet fuel.

He whimpered, reaching for his prick as precum beaded and dripped onto his belly. Jemma caught his wrist before he could fist himself. “Mine,” she whispered.

His cock jerked in agreement.

****

Strands of the raging jealousy that’d overwhelmed Jemma when she’d walked in to find Fitz in a small room with another woman still wound through her, though having him so clearly at her mercy did a lot to make it better.

She barely understood the fierceness that drove her. Her heart was involved, but the entire tangle of emotions would need examination later. Much later, when the man she wanted wasn’t laid out like a feast before her.

Jemma was starving.

She traced a line up the underside of his cock. It throbbed under her touch, the head a dark red that looked like it ached. Fitz squeezed his eyes closed. “Jemma, please.”

Words she could get used to, especially spoken in that needy tone. He was begging for her.

Jemma toed her shoes off, stripped her trousers and knickers off, and climbed onto the bed. She put a knee of either side of Fitz’s head, and he nuzzled against her inner thigh, his scruff rough against her leg. He kissed her, sweet gentle presses of lips until he’d nosed his way to her pussy. Fitz let out a huge, very relieved sounding sigh and lapped her clit.

Jemma moaned. A firestorm of pleasure raced from her core over every inch of her body.

His hands felt for her, one reaching up and back to grab her arse and urge her to grind against his mouth. Jemma circled her hips, an orgasm already coiling in her belly, but she didn’t want to simply ride his face. They’d only been apart a few days, but it’d felt like decades.

She’d been walking around with a part of herself missing, not realizing how big the hole was until she’d seen Fitz.

Fitz’s hand slid down the curve of her arse, his fingers inching closer to her opening as he steadily licked her clit. It’d be tempting to let him continue as he was if only his cock wasn’t arching rock hard over his belly and begging to be tasted.

Jemma dropped down without warning, braced a hand beside his hip while palming his erection with the other, and guided it to her mouth.

The taste of him, musky and male, made her head spin.

“Fuck,” Fitz whispered against her clit. She paused to nudge his shoulder with a knee until he resumed his licking.

That was better.

Jemma hollowed her cheeks as she sucked. Fitz’s thighs tensed, the muscles bunching and straining.

She undulated against his tongue, mewling around his prick as he finally got his fingers to her opening and pushed in. Jemma bobbed her head, working as much of his prick as she could into her mouth. She’d needed this, needed to feel him inside her channel, in her mouth, under her, pleasuring her because he wanted her.

Her tongue flicked over his cock, tasting, teasing, soothing.

Between her legs, his laps at her clit became wild, the thrusting of his fingers rougher.

The muscles behind one knee ticked, she floated on the edge for a heartbeat, then plunged into bliss. She muffled a yell by sucking harder on the cock in her mouth. Fitz’s tongue had stilled, but he had his face smashed against her pussy still, his breath cool against her skin.

“Jemma,” he moaned, then bucked up once, twice…she relaxed, taking him down until his coarse pubic hair rubbed against her chin. On the third thrust, he came, cursing as come rushed down her throat.

She very gently continued to suck until Fitz sagged against the bed. With a final kiss, she released his prick and shuffled around to squeeze herself against his side. Ship berths were always narrow. Mentally, she thanked whatever officer had given up this space to house Fitz.

Jemma settled with a sigh, her nose against sweat-dampened skin. “Hi,” she said, the word muffled.

Fitz tilted his face towards her. He looked dazed, his eyes not quite focused. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too. This is much better than whatever I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To be clear, I feel I should state that I am also yours.”

Fitz’s gaze sharpened. “I know, and I don’t ever want you to imagine I could—” He pressed his lips together as if the idea of being unfaithful was noxious to him.

It certainly made her stomach turn.

Though the results weren’t half bad, maybe it would be something to explore, under controlled circumstances, in the future.

Right now, she deserved to bask.

****

Fitz had no doubt that he’d get lost and die of starvation if he didn’t have a guide through the maze of the aircraft carrier’s numerous corridors and levels. Never in his life had he felt so large and uncouth. Or quite so male.

Jemma kept a very welcome possessive grip on his arm, glaring at any of the crewwomen that stared at him just a little too long. He feared for the lives of the ones that let their gazes wander south of his belt buckle.

They must have been deployed a very long time to find glasses and a blazer attractive.

“The Mess,” Jemma said breezily as she led him around a corner and into a very large and noisy space.

A whole lot of eyes turned to stare. Silence rippled across the room like a wave, followed by whispered conversations. Jemma pulled him over to the line for chow, and promptly put a hand on his arse.

“Do I need a shirt?” he asked in a low voice. “One that says ‘property of Captain Simmons’?”

“It’d be a start,” she grumbled, using her hold on him to push him forward as the line advanced, and only letting go when she had to pick up a tray. The food was hot and smelled amazing. Fitz loaded up his plate with eggs, bacon, and French toast. He’d worked up an appetite, even though Jemma had given him plenty to eat.

They exited the line, both with cups of tea on their trays. Someone waved, and Fitz recognized Bobbi. Jemma sighed but led him over anyway. Bobbi, Elena, Daisy, and Piper sat together, their empty breakfast dishes pushed to one side.

“I win!” Daisy said, holding out her hand. The others slapped twenties into her palm before scooting over to make room for Fitz and Jemma.

“What’d you win?” he asked.

“Daisy—” Jemma started, only to be interrupted.

“We bet on how long it’d take you two to bone and make it here.” Daisy fanned herself with her winnings. “I had the longest time.”

“We didn’t take that much time,” Fitz said, then snapped his mouth closed and dropped his gaze to his plate. Bloody hell.

Bobbi snorted with laughter. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t tire her out too much, champ. We need Prof up in the sky today.”

“Oh, um right.” He took a very large bite of eggs, then darted his eyes to Jemma, who nibbled on a piece of buttered toast. She gave him a smug little grin he couldn’t help returning.

“We better go, before our CO comes hunting for us,” Piper said, standing. She took Daisy’s hand, helping her step over the bench. They didn’t let go afterward, their fingers simply curled tighter around each other.

Fitz’s heart warmed. He was in love and wanted everyone else to be as well. Speaking of, he set his fork down and grabbed the now slightly worn envelope Hunter had given from his pocket and waved it at Bobbi. “This is for you,” he said.

She frowned.

“From Hunter,” Fitz clarified.

Bobbi snatched it out of his hand and held it against her chest. “Thank you, um, see you soon, Prof.” She trotted off. Lower-ranking crewwoman scrambled out of her way, before turning to watch her retreating form.

Fitz picked up his tea cup at the same time Jemma did, and they brushed the Styrofoam rims together.

The tea tasted better than any it had any right to, not because the generic bag in lukewarm water was delicious, but because he was sharing it with someone he loved.

Jemma took a long sip, sighed, and set the cup down while resting her head against his shoulders. Fitz counted ten envious glares shot their way, and that was just in his line of sight. He sat a little straighter. Jemma had picked him.

“Fitz,” she said softly. “I’m very certain I’m going to be shot at today.”


	9. Eye of the Tiger

“Ready?” Jemma asked over her shoulder. She flipped the last switch listed on her pre-flight checklist, comforted by the roar of the F-14’s engine.

Quake stuck a new picture—Jemma guessed of Piper—to her dash. “Hit it, Prof.”

Jemma signaled control and gave the deck crew the gesture for launch.

Adrenaline coursed through her system, spiking as the catapult launched the jet off the carrier’s deck. Quake let out a whoop. Jemma rolled the jet through a 360 before climbing to join Bobbi’s plane. They settled into formation, Bobbi taking point. Jemma guided her jet back and to one side as Mockingbird’s wingman.

The sky stretched blue and cloudless over the ocean, and except for the carrier and her escorts, Jemma couldn’t see a single other vessel from horizon to horizon.

“Radar’s clear,” Daisy said, then changed to a private channel. “Did Fitz say anything to you about evaluating any of us…let’s say to a higher degree?”

“I think May is using this as part of our course, one with live fire. Whatever happens today, I bet we get to see it again when training resumes.” She hoped there’d be more training. Flying combat missions had never fazed her before, but she’d never had someone like Fitz waiting on her before. In her previous relationships, the other person had been part of the military machine too, unlike Fitz she hadn’t had to spell out the danger she faced.

He’d gone pale as her not coming back became a real possibility to him. His hug had been fierce and he’d asked her to stay safe. She’d almost laughed, but the kind of safe he was talking about wasn’t the same as the safe she’d been sent to Miramar to overcome. Jemma wanted to stay alive too. She wanted a great many things.

“You’re quiet,” Daisy’s voice crackled over the com.

Jemma sighed as she turned her head, scanning the sky for movement. “I’m just thinking about things.”

“Let me guess, ‘things’ has a Scottish accent.”

Too bad Quake couldn’t see her eye roll. Jemma shimmed the plane to let Daisy know she was pushing it. “I think about things besides Fitz.”

“You do?”

Jemma shimmied the plane again. “But fair enough, I’m…what if I want to have babies?”

“That escalated quickly.”

“I feel like I got a part of myself back in Miramar, like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I love flying, but—” She paused, not sure how to say what she was thinking.

“But now you’re thinking of things on the ground,” Daisy said. “You’d be a good mom, and you know the military has excellent childcare, and I think Fitz wouldn’t mind being a house husband.”

“Maybe.” It was a lot to think about, especially because if she had a hard time imagining leaving her family behind to continue serving onboard carriers. How very odd, to never want to leave someone’s side. And somehow, she didn’t think the Navy would agree to Fitz being a long-term observer on every tour of duty she did.

Quake went still and silent. “I think we’re being shadowed,” she said. “I’m getting something faint and intermittent. It low, but I swear I can feel something in the sky with us.”

Jemma flicked her comlink to talk to Bobbi. “We’ve got contact, flying low enough to interfere with radar.”

“Roger. Let’s go take a look.”

****

Tucked in a corner of the control room, Fitz did his best to be invisible as the sailors hustled about their business. He’d watched Jemma’s jet launch, only finding a seat to cram himself into once the plane had no longer even been a speck in the sky.

His chest had a hole in it like his heart had gone with her. His heart would always go with her.

He made notes, listening to the chatter of the sailors working radar and the CO, about flight paths, wind speeds, and altitude.

Bobbi’s voice came over the radio. “Comm, we’ve got contact. Tracking at least one bogey. Low altitude, diving now to take a look.”

Fitz’s heart jumped into his throat. He pulled his cardigan tighter around him, the air in the room feeling like it’d dropped several degrees. This was Jemma’s job, she was good at it, she’d told him not to worry earlier while putting the image of someone trying to take her away from him in his brain. She’d been furious at the thought of another person being in his room, and then told him he should be calm over someone firing bullets at her.

His grip on his pencil tightened.

“We’re not seeing anything on radar,” Captain Hand replied to Bobbi.

A loud beep echoed from one of the screens. “Contact,” the sailor sitting in front of it, said, her voice calm, even though her eyes were wide. She held her breath as the radar swept around, her tight black curls shifting as she adjusted her headset.

“Tessa, what do we have?” Hand snapped.

“I’ve got, three, no five bogeys coming in high speed.”

Quake’s voice came over the link. “We’ve got five MiGs, visual contact, they’re scattering.”

Fitz wiped his palm on his jeans before noting the airspeed and trajectory of the MiGs and F-14s as Tessa reported them.

Five to two.

It’d be okay, the Russian’s wouldn’t open fire, not over an oil tanker dustup near Finland four days ago. They’d show their force and leave, point made.

“They’re on our six,” Bobbi said, voice icy calm. “What should we do?”

“Hold,” Captain Hand said. “Let them declare.”

Fitz thought his heart might beat out of his chest as the seconds dragged by.

“Evasive maneuvers,” Jemma’s words were high pitched. “We’re being fired on, machine gun rounds just went past the canopy.”

Captain Hand leaned close to the mic. “Weapons free!”

Fitz broke the pencil he was holding.

****

Jemma peeled out of formation, climbing rapidly. Her breathing was loud in her ears.

Those slugs had been close. Too close for a warning shot.

“Two following us,” Quake said. “Two after Bobbi. The other one is just fucking around.”

Jemma linked to Bobbi’s radio. “Crosswinds, let’s see if we can pare down what’s on us.”

“Roger. I’ll take high, you take low.”

“Roger.” Jemma desperately tried not to let the words… _and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye_. Nope. Busy. Couldn’t think of Fitz.

_Holding a baby in her arms with blue eyes._

“Fuck,” she grumbled, forcing herself back into the moment. “Are we in position?”

“Yes, MiG’s will be at our eleven and two.” There was a pause. “You okay, Prof?”

Jemma gritted her teeth as Bobbi’s F-14 sped towards her. “Right as rain. Rain that’s trying to shake two hostiles.” She yanked the stick, banking the jet hard, close enough to Bobbi to wave. “Firing,” she barked. The two MiGs darted opposite directions as she rattled off rounds from the front gun.

An explosion bloomed to one side. “Got one,” Bobbi said. Quake cheered, but it cut off quickly. “MiG four has stopped fucking around and is coming in hot.”

Loud pops and metal screeching filled the cabin.

****

Fitz’s stomach tried to crawl out through his throat.

“It’s just a few holes in the left tail fin,” Jemma said, sounding steady as a rock.

It could have been a few bloody holes in her.

He raked his hand through his hair and made notes with the stub of his pencil.

At least he was here, if something happened, well, right now he wouldn’t even know about it if he was still in California. He needed to marry her. Then the nice women with somber faces would come to his doorstep to tell him the bad news.

He swallowed hard, his throat raw as if he’d been screaming.

Thinking like that wasn’t fair to Jemma. He knew what she was, and grounding her would be the same as killing her. Though the next time he saw her he wasn’t letting go for an hour. Or two. Maybe a week.

He just needed to believe there’d be a next time.

The sailors were reporting positions and speeds, and he curled around his notebook, transforming the numbers into the dogfighting that was happening just past the curvature of the Earth.

He wrote down one textbook maneuver Jemma did, then another.

“Dammit,” he whispered to himself. She’d gotten lost out there and forgotten her win in training. If she kept this up, she’d get herself killed.

****

“What the hell are you doing?” Quake yelled in her ear.

Jemma had just completed a perfect turn, capping off an evasive technique taught to pilots since WWII. As expected, she hadn’t shaken the MiG behind them, though they hadn’t been able to get a weapons lock either.

Far below them, the ocean rose and fell in ripples that looked static. She hummed to herself as she dove into another easy to counter maneuver, needing to be able to fly without thought as she performed complex calculations in her head. “ _And in sunshine the waters are sleeping_ ,” she mumbled, repeating the calculations as she leveled off.

“We’re dead,” Quake groaned. “I’m stuck in a plane with a woman singing about death.”

Jemma shimmied the jet. “Have some faith.”

There was silence. “Sorry,” Quake said after a moment.

Jemma huffed and switched comms. “I can’t see Mockingbird, is she okay?”

“Ten klicks to your four o’clock,” was the prompt reply. As long as Bobbi was entertaining a few of the MiGs, what Jemma was planning would work.

She switched channels back to the carrier. “Is Fitz in the control room?” she asked.

****

Fitz’s head spun as Jemma asked for him. This was it, she was saying goodbye. He’d be standing uselessly here while her plane broke apart and sunk in the water. He didn’t know if he wanted to return to land if Jemma would never be there again.

Captain Hand grabbed his sleeve and dragged him over to the mic. His knees barely held him. “I’m here, Jems.”

“Good.” She rattled off a string of numbers.

His mind blanked for half a second before he could put them together. Oh, of course. Had he been doubting her? Not caring what he hit, he slammed his notebook against the panel and started furiously working out the math.

“Did you get the same answer?” she asked after a few moments.

“Yes!” he crowed. “You’re good! I love you!”

Maybe not the best time to say it, but he wanted her to hear it.

“Love you too.”

He straightened up and punched the air, giddy with relief, not caring that every sailor in the room was staring at him. She had a plan, and she loved him.

“Care to explain?” Captain Hand asked, her arms crossed.

The radar continued to beep, and he gestured at it. “Watch.”

****

“What are we doing?” Quake asked as Jemma climbed steeply, the force pushing them into their seats. “You’re freaking me out, man.”

“I’ve lulled our pursuer into a false sense of security. And sorry about the singing, I’m trying not to think about Fitz and my subconscious has decided I know a single Scottish song.”

_Sitting beside Fitz, eating spaghetti for dinner while their children giggled._

She needed to marry that man.

“Learn a cheerier one,” Quake grumbled.

Jemma leveled out and banked hard right, starting a well-known pattern that her tail would counter in the usual way.

“I’m trying to have faith,” Quake whispered. Alarms lit up the cockpit. “MiG has weapons lock,” Quake said.

Jemma took a single deep breath and sent her F-14 into a nearly vertical dive, rolling to invert. The weapon’s lock silenced.

“Shit!” Quake barked.

“MiG!” Jemma yelled back, not able to turn her head against the g-force to look.

“Diving after us.”

“Good.” She forced the plane into a tight spiral. Vague memories of sitting beside Fitz and talking about the limits of F-14s flashed through her mind.

_Holding his hand as they watched their daughter graduate._

She gritted her teeth against the pain in her arms as she held the F-14 to the turn.

Different warning noises blared.

“We’re going to stall,” Quake barked, panic in her voice.

The ocean was getting closer and closer. The F-14 bucked but she forced it to stay on course.

“Jemma!” Quake screamed.

With a scream of her own, she wrenched out of the dive, close enough to the ocean to see the waves moving. The engines roared as she pointed the jet’s nose at the horizon. The MiG was exactly where she’d expected it to be.

The steady beep of a successful lock filled her with relief. “Launching sidewinder,” she told command. The MiG blossomed into flame. “Kill confirmed.”

“Holy shit,” Quake sounded awed. “How did you…oh, math.”

Jemma laughed. “It does come in handy.” She peered through the canopy. “Where’re the other MiGs?”

****

Fitz had collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands. She’d done it.

“Remaining MiGs are breaking off and bugging out,” Tessa reported.

Captain Hand pushed her hair off her face. “Prof, Mockingbird, return to base. The enemy is disengaging.” She fixed her gaze on him. “That was fancy. I’m glad it worked.”

“Of course it worked,” he growled. “Jemma’s brilliant.”

“Down, boy.” She waved a finger at him. “Tell her to see me for debriefing at eighteen-hundred hours.” Captain Hand took a steaming mug from a tray and walked to the windows where the sun had started to make its way to the horizon.

The radio crackled with Jemma’s voice. “Mockingbird and Professor requesting a flyby.”

“Negative, Ghostrider,” a sailor said. “The pattern if full.”

Fitz hurried over to Captain Hand and grabbed her coffee out of her grip, holding it away.

“Excuse me?” she huffed.

He only grinned as two F-14s thundered by. He swore that in the second one, which banked slightly as it passed over the deck, he could see Jemma giving him a thumbs up. The jet engines rattled the room, sending coffee splashing over the rim of the mug, and sending a surge through him that headed straight south. His cock ached as it pressed tight against the zipper of his trousers. 

Jemma was magnificent.

Setting the mug down, Fitz picked up his notebook and held it in front of his groin as he headed for the stairs. He had a girlfriend to see.


End file.
